Theorizing Myth: Narrative, Ideology, and Scholarship

Bruce Lincoln

THEORIZING MYTH Narrative> Ideology> and Scholarship

The University of Chicago Press Chicago & London

Bruce Lincoln is professor of the history of religions at the University of Chicago. He is the author of seven books, most recently Death, Wat; a11d Sacrifice and Autho1·ity: Comtruction and Con·osion, both published by the University of Chicago Press. The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637 The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London © 1999 by The University of Chicago All rights reserved . Published 1999 08

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ISBN: 0 -226-48201 -4 (cloth) l SBN: 0 -226-48202-2 (paper)

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Lincoln, Bruce. T heorizing myth :narrative, ideology, and scholarship/ Bruce Lincoln. p. em. Includes bibliographical references and index . ISBN 0-226-48201 -4 (cloth: all<. paper). - ISBN 0-226 -48202-2 (pbk. : alk. paper) l. Myth-Study and teaching-History. I. Title. BL320. L56 1999 29l.l'3' 072 - dc2l 99-13427 CIP

@J The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences- Pennanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992.

For Richard Lepper t and other friends and colleagues associated with the University of Minnesota's P rogram in Comparative Studies in D iscourse and Society John Archer Bud Duval Ji m Gearity Ann Gearity Ted Huters Allen Isaacman Lisette Josephides George Lipsitz Jeanne Long WiUiam Malandxa Susan McClary Ellen Messer- Davidow Roger Miller

John Mowitt Kate Porter Gianna Po mata Marlos Rudie Jochen Schulte-Sasse Monika Stu mpf David Sylvan Gary Thomas H ernan Vidal Ann and Lindsay Waters Pauline Yu Tony Zahareas

Contents

Preface

ix

I: Mythos among the Greeks 1. The Prehistory of Mythos and Logos 2. From Homer through Plato

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19

II: A Modern History of Myth 3. The History of Myth from the Renaissance to the Second World War 47 4. Mr. Jones's Myth of Origins 76 5. Nietzsche's "Blond Beast"

101

6. Dumezil's German War God

121

III: New Directions 7. From the Second World War to the Present (and Possibly a Little Beyond) 141 8. Plutarch's Sibyl

160

9. Gautrek)s Saga and the Gift Fox

VII

171

Contents

10. O nce Again, the Bovine's Lament 11. The Pandits and Mr. Jones

Epilogue: Scholarship as Myth Notes

217

Index

291

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Preface

192 207

I t would be nice to begin with a clear and co ncise definition of "myth," but unfortunately that can't be done. Indeed , it would be nice to begi n with any defi nition , but to do so would not o nly be misleading, it would undercut and distort the very project I intend to pursue. For in the pages that follow I will not attempt to identify the thing myth "is" ; rather, I hope to elucidate some o f the ways this word, concept, and category have been used and to identify the most dramatic shifts that occurred in their status and usage . In lieu of definition , let me advance two preliminary observations that may help o rient the discussio n. First, the term "myth," like the Greek mythos fi·om which it derives, regularly denotes a style of narrative discourse and specific instances thereof. Second , whenever someone calls something a " myth," powerful-and highly consequential-assertions are being made about its relative level of validity and authority vis-a-vis other sorts of discourse. Such assertions, moreover, can be strongly positive (e.g., myth = "pri mordial truth" or "sacred story"), strongly negative (myth = " lie'' or "obsolete worldview" ), or something in between (as in the mildly ind ulgent view that myth = " pleasant diversion," " poetic fancy," or "story for children") . It is a truism that there is much at stake in the words people use and how they happen to use them, just as there is much at stake in the stories they tell and how those stories get told . I n the following pages, my chief goal is to tell a story about the stories others h ave told about the stories of others still, and my point is that one should treat all these narratives and metanarratives with considerable care and caution.

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In the opening section of this book, I explore the first of two tidal reversals the West has experienced in its prevailing attitudes toward the stories it terms and classifies as "myth." T his is the familiar account of how mythos yielded to logos in the Golden Age o f Greece, to which I add some novel wrinkles. First, in chapter 1, I explore the earliest attestations of th ese two terms and show that in the epic, logos denoted not rational argumentation but rather shady speech acts: those of seduction, beguilement, and deception, through which structural inferiors outwitted those who held power over them. MythOj) in contrast, was the speech of the preeminent, above all poets and Icings, a genre (like them) possessed of high authority, having the capacity to advance powerful truth claims, and backed by physical force. Chapter 2 then shows that mythoi retained their authority much longer than has usually been assumed , well into the fifth and even the fo urth centuries B. C.E . They yielded such status, not as the result of some vague and grad ual progress of human thought or a (mythic) "Greek miracle," but as the result of fierce polemics bound up in issues sim ultaneously political, linguistic, and epistemological. T hese had to do with the consolidation (and contestation) of Athenian democracy, the spread of literacy, and the eclipse of poetry by prose. So degraded did the category of myth become that the Romans showed no interest in borrowing the term. Rather, they referred to the kind of stories Greeks called mythoi with a word of th eir own that, in conu·ast, had no major ambi guities at its core and conveyed th e lack of seriousness with which these tales were regarded:fabulae. O nly with the Renaissance recovery of Greek culture and texts did the term " myth" come back into usage, after which a long chain of events laid the groundwork fo r recuperation of the geme. The second section of this book (chapters 3-6) traces these developments, which culminated in the late eighteenth an d nineteenth centuries. As in the Greek situation, this reversal offortune was related to much broader sociocultural , historic, and political processes. Here, the big story is the emergence of nationalism , particularly in its relation to roman ticism, and th e qu est for a language and a set of stories on which the emergent nation-state could be founded. Toward this end, vernac ulars displaced the international languages of church and court, while myths (and, to a lesser extent, folk songs) were constintted as the authentic, primordial voice of the Ulllt. Chapter 3, which provides an overview of these processes, is terribly long but also much too short. In the interests of economy, I have fo und it necessary to ignore a number of important figures (H eyne, Creuzer, Schel-

ling, K. 0 . Mi.iller, Bu lfi nch, e.g.) and to give others summary u·eatment or to mention them only in passing. At ti mes this chapter tlu·eatened to become a book itself~ or even an encyclopedia. My goal was to keep it man ageable witl1o ut lapsing into utter superficiality, and toward tl1at end I selected several representative figures for fuller discussion. Chapters 4-6 tl1Us offer more detailed consideration of tlu·ee intellectual giants in tl1e moment of their boldest tl1eoretical formulations: Sir William Jones, when he posited the existence of a protolanguage and community to which others would give tl1e names "Aryan" and "Indo-European" (1786-92); Fried rich N ietzsche, when he envisioned a group of "blond beasts" at the start of his genealogy of morals, a view he amplified (1886-88) in light of his encounter witl1 tl1e Laws of Manu; Georges D umezil, when he first proposed that a tripartite division of fu nctions and a dual fo rm of sovereignty were hall marks oflndo-Europea.n mytl1 and religion (1936-40 ). Beyond their individual interest, these chapters are meant to be read as a set tl1at explores tl1c way scholarship o n the subject of myth over tl1e course of more than a century tended to privilege Aryan (or Indo-European ) examples. In so doing, it played a major role in tl1e discursive consu·uction of a hypothetical, even fictive "race," "VOlk1 " or "civilization ," witl1 consequences of world-historic importance. I n ways, chapters 1- 6 - which are as much concerned witl1 the mythologization oftl1eory as tl1ey are witl1 tl1e tl1eorization of myth-extend a discussion begun by such admirable works as Ivan Su·ensk.i's Four Theories of Myth in TiJJentieth-Century H istory and Daniel Dubuisson's Mythologies du XX' siecle. 1 Botl1 books provide excellent discussions of some of the most influential contemporary approaches to tl1e study of myth, particularly those associated witl1 Claude Levi-Strauss and Mi. rcea Eliade. Regrettably, however, neither book traces the deeper genealogy of current tl1eory, nor do they deal adequately witl1 Dumezil, whom Su·enski ignores and Dubuisson (who was his student) u·eats quite uncritically. Because of tl1e work done by Strensk.i, Dubuisson, and others, I have not fo und it necessary to discuss tl1e writings of Levi-Su·auss and Eliade in detail, altl1ough I am concerned to connect tl1eir theories of mytl1 to those of D umezil and to move beyond all tlu·ee. The tl1ird section of this book thus begins witl1 a u·ansitional chapter tl1at summarizes recent critical discussions and looks to a pregnant sentence in Durkheim and Mauss's essay Primitive Classification as tl1e source of what was both most productive and least problematic in Dumezil and Levi-Strauss alike.2 From the observation by tl1e old masters of tl1e ecole sociologique that mytl1 recodes taxonomy, I move to

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develop a view of myth as ideology in narrative form. Chapters 8-11 provide some varied case studies where this view is tested and developed. Unless otherwise noted, all translations are my own. C hapter 12 brings things to a close by pondering the question of wheth er scholarship genuinely differs from myth. Given the unhappy example of scholarship o n myth, particularly that on Aryan or Indo-European myth , is one forced to conclude that scholarly discomse is simply another instance of ideology in narrative form ? The topic is a painful but important one for me, as I continue my struggle to extricate myselffrom a discipline, a paradigm, and a discourse that I adopted early in my academic career with insufficient critical reflection. 3 To a certain extent, writing this book has been an at tempt to undo my earlier lack of awareness and make ame nds for it. Although it is possible to view na'ivete as a natural or innate condi tion, I have come to think mine was actively produced by specific choices, agents, forces, and circumstances. Reflecting on my past, I am drawn to a moment aro und 1955, when I was seven years old and my father was my hero. I knew he had been in the army and done service in North Afi·ica and Italy, from the Battle ofKasserine Pass through V-E Day. He never talked much about his experiences, however, which caused me some frustration. One day, I tried to learn more. "You're brave," I began, "You fo ught the Germans, and tl1ey were tough." He paused for a moment, t hen shocked me with his answer. "Not really," he said, "They were just like us: a bunch o f scared kids." It was clear he didn't want to discuss it fu rther, and I don't think we ever returned to tl1e subject. Still, I could draw a few lessons. We were no different from Germans. Fear was a mark of immaturi ty. Heroism was hard to find. T here were otl1er subjects that rarely came up. Only in my teens did I learn tl1at my father had been blacklisted during the McCartl1y period. Only later did I begin to hear about my relatives' involvement witl1 radical causes. Religion was also little mentio ned. Although nomi nally Jewish, my parents and grandparents were thoroughly secular, and we were all committed to the project of cultural assimilation . Occasionally I heard stories from my maternal great-grandmother about the pogroms she had known before leaving Russia in the 1890s. Such conversations were rare, however, and I was usually scooted out of tl1e room when talk turned in that direction . Although the pictu re I am painting is one of silence and repression , t hat was hard ly the tenor of family life. On the contrary, we were a vocal, even

garru lous bunch. Books, music, films, electoral politics, international relations, Freudian tl1eory, aspects of history and science were all favo red topics. The ethos of our household stipulated that one could talk about anything and tl1at even the youngest had full conversational rights. The areas of silence were all the more curious because tl1ey were so few. On ly now do I realize these silences originated in a desire to protect me and my sister from anytlU.ng that might dispose us to fear. The Second World War was thus problematic, as were tl1ose pieces of family history that th reatened to estrange us from the American mainstream and make us (feel ) vulnerable to it. Many of my ancestors had been leftists: some Anarchists, some Communists, some fe llow travelers of various sorts. All had been Jews. HistoricaUy, otl1er sorts of people-those who , in tl1e recent past, had called themselves Aryan-had made it dangerous for people like us. In 1948, when I was born, all tl1at was over, or so my parents hoped. Their determination to raise a fearless son has served me well for the most part, and I'm grateful to tl1em, but tl1eir principled silences also left me shamefully naive. That nai'vete was never so apparent as when I arrived at tl1e University of Chicago in September 1971, determined to pursue the study of myth within the Department of History of Religions, where it is now my privilege to teach. U nlike most of my fel low students, who wanted to master some specific tradition or part of the globe-Hinduism, say, or classical China- ! defi ned my interests in thematic terms and was open to all suggestions, particularly those of Mircea Eliade, whose presence was what brought me to C hicago. In tl1e year before my arrival, Georges Dumezil had been a distinguished visitor tl1ere, and h is Haskell Lectures became vol ume 2 of Mythe et epopee. 4 The year before that, Stig Wikander had given another set of Haskell Lectures, also on I ndo-E uropean mytl1. Both men had been invited by Eliade, and in the wake oftl1eir visits he devoted much of his teaching to Indo-European religions, just as I was beginning my studies. Caught up in his entl1Usiasm for a topic of which I was previously ignorant, I decided to learn Sanskrit, tl1en Avestan, and discovering an unexpected talent for languages, I soldiered on to Greek, Latin, O ld Norse, and Pahlavi, along witl1 a smattering of Hittite, Old Irish, and Russian, to complement work in historic linguistics. As a student of tl1e history of religions, I was taught tl1at Friedrich Max Mi.iller inaugmated our discipline, but tl1at his work on "comparative mythology" fo undered on his own incompetence, as d id tl1e later attempt of Sir James George Frazer. The field was rescued , so tl1e narrative went, by

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Dumezil, with the support of some talented colleagues, Wikander, Otto Hofler, Jan de Vries, and Emile Benveniste among them. 5 Older scholars also entered my awareness, including H ermann Gtintert, Herman La mmel, Walter Wi.ist, Rudolf Much, Franz Altheim, Richard Reitzenstein, and Hans H einrich Schaeder, and many of these men were deeply involved with the Nazi movement. To that side of their work, however, I was largely blind. Instead of dangerous ideologues, I saw talented linguists, erudite Orientalists (a word not yet suspect), and trailblazing students of myth. Whatever questions I had-and they were not man y- were deftly deflected. The "Aryan thesis" was fundamentally sound, I was told, altl1ough Hitler & Co. had badly abused it. But no one spoke of"Aryans" anymore o r located their (presumed) Urheimat in Scandinavia, Germany, or tl1e Norili Pole. Ratl1er, tl1e posnvar discourse dealt wi tl1 Indo-Europeans, elided questions of race, and placed tl1e origin of this sanitized people off to tl1e east, on tl1e Russian steppes. In the pages tl1at follow, I hope to show that things are not so simple and tl1e problems - moral and intellectualthat attend this discomse and discipline are not so easily resolved.

Mikael Rothstein , Garbi Schmidt, J0rgen Podemann S0rensen, Tove Tybjerg, Margrit Warburg, Morten Warmind, and David Westerlund. Otl1ers aJso offered comments, cri ticisms, invitations, and encouragement tint contributed substantially. Above aU, I am gratefuJ to Louise, Martha, and Rebecca Lincoln for their love, support, and stimulating conversation. Among others, I would iliank Debbie Anderson, Franr;:oise Bader, Maurizio Bettini, Sy11110ve des BOLIVl·ie, John and Adela Collins, Ileana Chirassi Colombo, Pietro Clemente, Prasenj it Duara, Ch ris Faraone, Roger Friedland , Sander Gilman, Laura Gibbs, Clark Gilpin, Fritz Graf, Gianni GuasteUi, William Malandra, Russell McCutcheon, Glenn Most, Gregory Nagy, Mohamed N'daou, Patrizia Pinotti, Sheldon Pollock, Gianna Pomata, Jamie Redfield, Maria Michaela Sassi, David Sick, Brian Smith, Jonathan z. Smith, Pier Giorgio Salinas, Ivan Strenski, Jesper Svenbro, Hugh Urban, Steven Wasserstrom, Anthony Yu , Andrej Zaporogchenko, and the late Marilyn Waldman.

This book had its beginnings in wide-ranging conversations I held witl1 Cristiano Grottanelli in tl1e beautifuJ setting of Sestri Levante during the summer of 1993 . At that time, we hoped to '.Vrite a book of this sort togetller, but scheduling conflicts and the difficulty of sustaining a longdistance collaboration made it impossible to bring our project to fruition. Had we done so, I am sure it would be a better piece of work, but I have benefited greatly from Grottanelli's counsel and criticism tlu·oughout these years, most pointedly in tl1e Brauer Seminar "Toward a History of Myth" that he and I taught togetl1er witl1 Wendy Doniger at the University of Chicago dming the spring of 1996. Altl1ough there were many points on which we three did not agree, ilie discussions were wonderfully honest and productive, and I am deeply grateful to iliese splendid colleagues, as also to Martin Riesebrodt. I am aJso deeply indebted to fri ends and colleagues at tl1e University of Copenhagen, where I taught a course titkd " Interpretation of Mytl1" in the fall ofl998 while also trying out chapters oftl1is book on audiences at otl1er Scandinavian universities . In all cases, tl1eir hospitality was exceptional and their comments invaluable. ParticuJar tl1anks go to Erik Reenberg Sand, Stefan Arvidsson, Per-Arne Berglie, Peter Bryder, Ulf Drobin, Erik af Edholm, Armin Geertz, Anders Hultgard, Peter Jackson, Tim Jensen, OlofLjungstr6m, Tord Olsson , Catherina Raudvere,

xiv

XV

I

Mythos among the Greel(s

1

The Prehistory of Mythos and Logos

Heroic accounts of progress and the march of civilization, when narrating the beloved Greek Miracle, regularly grant prominent place to the transformation in speech and though t that led from the mythos of Homer and H esiod to the logos ofH eraclitus and Plato, a transformation associated with the move from symbolic to rational discourse, anthropomorphism to abstraction, and religion to philosophy. 1 Something along these lines happened-and something dramatic, to be sure-but the story is hardly so simple as it is often made out to be. Close reading of the earliest texts raises some serious questions and contains more than a few surprises.

I Let us begin with an errant detail: a manuscript variation in a well-known line fro m Hesiod's Theogony, at the point where the Muses add ress the poet directly. Most editors agree tl1e text ought to read: We know how to recount many falsehoods like real iliings, and We know how to proclaim trutl1s when we wish. 2 Here, a contrast is drawn between two sorts of content and the modes of speaking appropriate to each, botl1 of which are equally available to tl1e Muses and to those iliey inspire (table l.l ). To describe tl1e act of relating plausible falsehoods, the text uses the verb legein and deploys a form ulaic line that elsewhere marks one of OdysFirst published in A1·etlmsa 30 (1997): 341-63, under the title "Competi ng Discourses: Rethinking the Prehistory of Mythos and Logos," © 1997 by The Johns Hopkins Un iversity Press. Reprinted by permission. An early version was delivered at the University of Chicago in 1995 and later published in Histm-y ofReligitms 36 (1996): L- 12.

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line 27 line 28

Chapm· One

The P1·ehistory of Mythos attd Logos

Table 1.1 Structural Contrasts in Theogony 27-28

II

Mode of Speech "to recount" (lcgein) "to proclaim" (gemsasthai)

Speech Content "falsehoods like real things" ( pseudea ... etymoisin homoia) "truths" (alethea)

seus's most skillful (and morally problematic) pieces of deception. 3 For tell ing truths, it settles on a verb that in tl1e Wm-lzs and Days denotes tl1e act of speech with which Justice herself ( tl1e goddess D ike) denounces perjurers and tl1e "bribe-eating" kings who render crooked judgments.4 While modern editors confidently read gentJasthai in Line 28, a great many manuscripts put in its place tile more common verb mythesasthai (" to speak, to teU").5 This usage, in turn, resonates witl1 another passage from tl1e Worlls and Days: tl1e culminating line of its proem, where Hesiod , having called on Zeus to ensure truth and justice in legal proceedings, pledges to speak similarly to his wayward brotl1er, Perses. Zeus of the lofty th under, you who dwell in ilie highest palace, Hear me, you who sec and perceive: Straighten out tl1e judgments, according to justice! And I will tell [mythesaimen] real tilings to Perses. 6 It is not my intention to argue tl1at tl1e reading o f Theogony 28 witil mythesasthai is preferable or that it represents the "original" text. Rather, I would simply observe that tl1e existence of this well -attested variant suggests many Greeks found the juxtaposition of mytheomai to legein the most comprehensible and most effective way to draw a multivalent contrast between true speech and deception (or at least ambiguity); tl1e straight and the crooked ; also between tl1at which is superficial and ornamented on the one hand and tl1at which is blw1t, but accurate, on the otl1er; and , yet again, between tl1e play of poetry and tl1e seriousness oflegal struggle? So far, so good. But to a modern eye, tl1e terms in til is equation seem reversed, for contrary to our expectations, it is mytheomai ( tl1c speech of mythos) that is here associated witl1 truth (alethea), while legein ( tl1e speech of logos) is associated witl1 lies, masquerade, and dissimulation (pset.~dea ... etymoisin homoia)! Nowhere else in tl1e Hesiodic corpus does eitilcr oftl1ese verbs appear, save the passages we have considered (Theogony 27- 28, Worlls and Days 10). If we turn om attention to tl1e corresponding no minal for ms, however, ilie picture becomes more complex- and also more intriguing. 4

Let us begin with logos, which occurs five times, but only once in tl1e singular./! This comes when Hesiod introduces his accou nt oftl1e world ages. His narrative, add ressed to Perses with didactic intent, stretches from first tl1ings to last and describes tl1e descent of humanity from the o riginal perfection of the Golden Race-u nagi ng, pious, and free from all labor- to tl1e vicious and degraded beings who characteri ze ilie present Race oflron. Yet, precisely where a modern reader expects tl"tis fabu lous discourse to be labeled mythos, Hcsiod frames it difle rently, using the term logos instead.9 E lsewhere, logos always appears in tl1e plural. 10 On tl1ree occasions it is modified by tl1e adjective haimulios ("seductive"), and th rice it appears alongside psmdea ("falsehoods"). Consider, for instance, this piece of tl1e creation account. Now loathsome Strife [Eris] gave birth to painful Toil, Forgetfulness and Hunger, and Pains bearing tears, Combats and Battles and Murders and Manslaughters, Q uarrels and Falsehoods and Logoi and D isputes. 11 Beyond the generally ominous nature of this list, one perceives subtler points. T hus, Logoi are joined, not only witl1 "Falsehoods" (Psettdea te Logous) but also with" D isputes" (Amphi-iogia, "Opposed iogoi" ) and "Quarrels" to form a set: tile verbal forms of conflict, in w hich women excel. T hese, in tu rn, arc contrasted with the more manly physical forms detailed in tl1e precedin g line: "Combats and Battles and Murders and Manslaughters" (see fig . 1.1 ). PHYSICAL CONFLICTS

d Combats

VERBAL CONFLICTS

Strife

Murders Battles

9 Quarrels

Manslaughters

LOGOI

Falseh oods

Line 228

Line 229

Figut·e l.l Logical and familial relations in Theogony 228- 29.

5

Disputes

Cbaptet· One

T!Jc Prebistm~y of Mythos anti Logos

Having inscribed these codes at the level of the divine, H esiod extends them to the human in his account of Pandora, the first and prototypical woman, into whose breast Hermes placed "falsehoods, seductive logoi, and a wily character." 12 Here, as elsewhere, the adjective haimulios marks the erotic power of beguilement and attraction exercised by the words (and speaker) in question. 13 Although the etymology remains unclear, its sense is evident in the following passage.

Although the two portions of this passage arc closely related, they do diftc r in some respects. Thus, most obviously, the first portion (lines 78284) speaks about men, women, and plants, but not animals; the second (Jines 785- 89), about men, women, and animals, bu t not plants. Attempting to fill in the gaps, o ne is thus led to infer the following analogies.

Do not let a woman with swaying hips deceive your mind. Seductive [haimula] and cajoling, she's seeking yo ur granary: He who puts his trust in a woman , puts his trust in thieves. 14 Although a distrustful and condescending patriarchy attaches its sense of"temininity" to the discourses it labels " falsehoods and seductive logoi," it does not regard them as a female monopoly. 15 Certain men may also use these kinds of speech, but as a consequence they tend to be understood as somehow less than full y male, or somehow more. Consider a complex passage from that section of the Worlu and Days where Hesiod treats calendric lore. The sixteenth of the month is very unfavorable for plants, And good for the birth of a boy. It is not favorable for a girl, Neither to be born in the first place, nor to celebrate a marriage. Nor is the 6th fitting for the birth of a girl, But it is a well-disposed day to castrate goats and sheep, And to put a pen arou nd the flock. That day is also good fo r the birth of a boy, who will love to utter jokes, Falsehoods, seductive logoi, and secret conversations. 16 Embedded within these lines is a formal analysis of the ways in which the two days in question interact with three categories, each of which is treated as a binary opposition. These are: (a) for tu ne (a uspicious or inauspicious), ( b) human beings (male and female), and (c) other living beings (animals and plants) (table 1.2). Table 1.2 The Auspiciousness ( +) and Inauspiciousness (-) of Certain Days for Specific Classes of Being, according to Works and Days 782 -789 Men The sixteenth (lines 782-84) The sixth (lines 785-89)

+ + 6

Women

Animals

r+ J +

P lants

[- ]

Men : Women ::Animals : Plants Men: Animals:: Women: Plants The gaps also tocus ou r attention on what is actually said about plants and animals in the two sections of the text, and here we encounter another difference. The remarks on plants are vague and global : "Very unfavorable for plants." 17 Not so those for beasts: "It is a well-disposed day to castrate goats and sheep," a recommendation wi th considerable precision and import, bu t fo r animals of one ge nder only. 18 And here one notes a logical nicety: the recommended activity cHcctively destroys the characteristic for which these beasts were selected , or-to put it in Lcvi-Straussian termsafter positing an initial contrast of male and female, the text seeks a mediation of these opposed categories, which it finds in neutered an imals and the process of castration. The import of these points becomes apparent when we find that this same day "is also good fo r the birth of a boy, who will love to utter jokes, falsehoods, seductive Logoi, and secret conversations." 19 Such a person occupies the same ambiguous position in the human realm that geldings do in the animal. Though male, he prefers persuasion (peitho) to force (bic or lmr-tos) and delights in words rather than deeds (e1;ga). Moreover, the kinds of speech he favors have "femini ne" associations; which is to say, they are playful and winsome, even flirtatious, but unscrupulous and manipu lative nonetheless. Efl_e. ctive fo r the speaker, such words are correspond ingly dangerous to the hearer, fo r with and through them, those who arc weaker -women in particular, but others as well-repeatedly overcome those more gifted in physical strength. The kind of cunning that lets the weak overcome the strong- or, to put it more properly, that lets those whose power rests in their wiles and words overcome those with power of arms and armies-was known as mctis among the Greeks and has been discussed in magisterial fashio n by Marcel Detienne and Jean -Pierre Vernant. 20 Within the Theogon)~ this intelligence of wiles and ruses is personified as the goddess Metis, whom Zeus marries immediately after he has made himself king in heaven, hoping to domesticate her and bring her powers under his control. 21 7

Chajitel' One

Far from solving Zeus's problem, however, the marriage shifts the issue to a different level. T hus, when Metis becomes pregnant, her lord becomes worried, and his disquiet is the narrative coding of an abstract point: a more fu ll y accomplished synthesis afforce and cunning (such as that anticipated in the product of this marital union) will prevail over an earlier, less perfect form of the same synthesis (such as that manitest in the union itself). So, when oracles predict that Metis will bear a daughter, then a son, and the son will overthrow his father, Zeus responds by swallowing Metis. That is, he brings her under his control in definitive fashion by fully encompassing her powers. From her home deep in his body (specifically, in his nedus, a term that means "womb," as well as "belly"), his newly internalized female voice of (temale) cunning thereafter warns him of all dangers and suggests strategies through which he can overcome them.22 With this, at last, his sovereignty is secm e. One problem remains for the text to work out: it must explain to us why Metis did not foresee Zeus's attack, she who was "most knowing among dei ties and mortal men." 23 The answer is as simple as it is elegant: to overcome Metis, the most powerful of males did that which was least expected. He relied not on his force, but o n such "feminine" cunning as he already possessed, thereby turning Metis's own weapons against her. Having deceived her by the guile in his breast And by seductive logoi, Zeus put her down into his belly. 24

III In the Homeric poems ( hymns as well as epics), the term logos covers much th e same semantic range that it does in Hesiod, although with a few different nuances and shades of meaning. Most striking, Homer's logoi arealways set in opposition to some situation or threat of violent struggle. In all instances, the term denotes acts of speech-often soothing, sometimes deceitful- that persuade men either to abandon the battlefield and renounce physical force or to find comfort and solace in moments of peace. The voices of official and conventional morality, however, tend to depict tl1ose who use and those who are influenced by such speech as irresponsible, womanly, or childish in nature. Thus, for instance, these lines from the first book of tl1e Odyssey reflect not only on Calypso but also on Odysseus, who- insofar as he is captivated by her /ogoi-abandons his heroic destiny. Calypso, Atlas's daughter, restrained him fro m misery and lamentation; 8

The Prehistory of Mythos aud Logos

Ever with soft and seductive logoi She beguiled him in such a way that he became forgetfu l ofithaca. 25 Again, there is a scene in tl1e Homeric Hymn to Hermes where Apollo contronts tl1e newborn Hermes and charges his baby brother ("not unjustly") with stealing his cattle.26 Here, as elsewhere, tl1e text contrasts Apollo to Hermes along m ultiple lines: elder versus younger, stronger (/lrateros) versus weaker, trutl1ful versus duplicitous, responsible versus inventive, moral versus wily. From tl1e moment of his birtl1, Hermes is "seductive in his cunning" (haimulo-metis) and a master of guiles. 27 When challenged by Apollo, he knows how to respond: Witl1 his crafts and seductive logoi, He wanted to trick the god of the silver bow.28 Similar d1emes of wily speech and escape from violent conflict figure in an Iliad vignette in which all the Greek troops fall out to attack, save the Cephallenians-who somehow missed the call to battle. T he text depicts tlus as a minor slip in tl1e mire of war, but misreading the situation, tl1e ever obtuse Agamemnon harshly rebukes Menestheus, the Cephallenian leader. You who are surpassing in evil guiles, wily of spirit, Why do you stand by, cowering in fear? Why do you wait for otl1ers? 29 Agamemnon regards Menesilieus not just as a coward but also as a deceiver, to judge from the insults he chooses, both drawn from the vocabulary of metis: "wily of spirit" (kerdaleophriin) and "you who are surpassing in evil guiles" (lealwisi doloisi kekasmme). Most interesting, however, is a textual variant of tl1e latter phrase found in a papyrus tl1at reads "you who are surpassing in evil logoi" (kakoisi logoisi kekasmme).3° Here, logoi replace doloi, wits and words being functionally interchangeable as tl1e instruments through wluch shrewd actors can save their skins from the risks of war. The last occurrence of logoi in H omer comes in a particularly poignant scene oftl1e Iliad, one on which tl1e whole epic turns. The stage is set when the Ormenian hero Eurypylus falls wounded and Achilles sends Patroclus to make inquiries, a move tl1e authorial voice calls "the beginning of evil" (leakou .. . arllhe, 11 .604).31 Mter consulting witl1 Nestor, however, Patroclus pauses to treat Eurypylus's wound (11.809 -48), and book 11 ends as he cuts tl1e arrow from rl1e Ormenian's tlugb and stanches his blood witl1 healing herbs. The epic then drops tl1is narrative iliread to dwell on 9

Chnpte1· One

the fury ofHector's assault. Only toward the middle ofbook 15 does it return to Patroclus and Eurypylus. As long as the Achaeans and Trojans Battled around tl1e wall, beyond the shelter of the swift ships, Patroclus sat in the hut of kindly Eurypylus. He entertained him with logoi and on his baleful wound He sprinkled drugs to cure the dark pains. But whe n he perceived tl1e Trojans rushing upon the wall, As shouts and panic rose among the Danaans, H e cried o ut in distress and smote his thighs With tl1e flat of his hands, and wailing, he uttered th is speech: "Eurypyl us, I can no longer stay here with you, Notwitl1standing your need, for a great struggle has arisen." 32

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Initially, we behold an enchanted space of tranquillity and companionship, where Pau·oclus's logoi sootl1e the spirit, much as his drugs (pharmalza) ease bodily pain. But when Trojan troops breach the Greeks' defensive wall, threatening annihilation, this island of calm cannot be maintained and the text shifts abruptly. With tl1e hand mat a moment before spread balm on Eurypylus's stricken tl1igh, Patroclus now bitterly smites his own. And tl1e voice tl1at entertained 33 breaks into a harsher, but also a more realistic, speech, which the text denotes as epos: "Eurypylus, I can no longer stay here, notwitl1standing your need. A great struggle has arisen." 34 From here, tl1e story goes hurtling to its end. Patroclus hastens from Eurypylus to Achilles and tl1ence into battle. The healer becomes tl1e warri or, who will kill, be killed, and d raw others after him in a brutal story we know too well.

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IV It should now be d ear tl1at the most ancient texts consistently use tl1e term logos to mark a speech of women, the weak, the young, and the shrewd, a speech that tends to be soft, delightful, charming, and alluring, but one that can also deceive and mislead. While it may be heard in many places and contexts, it is absent from tl1e battlefield and tile assembly place, fo r it is the nature-indeed, the geni us-of th is discourse to outflank and oHset tl1e physical, political, and material advantages of those who are accustomed to prevail on just such terrains (table 1.3). As a weapon oftl1e weak, logos is open to a wide variety of readings tl1at reflect-sometimes more and sometimes less openl y- the interests and sympathies of those who hear and comment. Authorial and autl1oritative 10

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Chapte1· One

voices most o ften characterize it as unprincipled and treacherous. But it can also be depicted as an effective instrument thro ugh which sympathetic figures struggle against serio us obstacles to accomplish reasonable, even admi rable goals, as when H ennes seeks to level an uneven playing field against Apollo, or when Patroclus works to calm Eurypylus and soothe his pains. So much for logos. What of the term with which it is so often contrasted in scholarly literature? What sorts of speech does mythos denote in the earliest texts? In H esiod this word occurs six times and , with one exception (to which we shall return), always denotes the rough speech of headstrong men, who are proud of their strength and bent on victory at all costs. T hus, for example, there is a moment when Zeus asks the O uranidsthe incarnations of warrior might- to pit their "great force and irresistible hands" against the Titans and to help him fight "for victory and power." 35 Altho ugh the T itans are their own brothers, the Omanids agree, and their pledge of support is termed a mythos.36 Similarly, when Gaia proposes to her children that they take the adamantine sickle she has newly devised and usc it to castrate their tyrannous father, at first the young gods are speechless with dread. Then, becoming bold , great Cronus, devious in his cun ning, Responded quickly with these mythoi: " Mother, I promise I will bring this deed to fulfillment. I have no regard for our father, he of the evil name, For he fiTst contrived unseemly deeds." 37 In both these instances, speakers commi t themselves to a violent struggle and, what is more, a struggle against their own kin. Facing these cruel realities without illusion o r sugarcoating, they pledge to fight and win, confident in their bodies' force. In deeds, moreover, they make good on th eir commitments: their speech is raw and crude, but true. In this, as in their physical might, they resemble nothing so much as the hawk in a story H esiod relates, directly he has finished telling Perses the log os of world ages. Now I will teiJ a fable to the kings, and tl1ey will tl1ink on tl1emselves. Thus tl1e hawk addressed the nightingale, she of tl1e dappled tl1roat, Bearing her in his claws high in the clouds, after having laid hold of her. She, stuck benveen his talons, piteously Wept, and forcefully he spoke tl1is mythos to her: "Good lady, why do you screech? One who is far your better has you. You will go where I take you, you who are a singer.

12

The Prehistory of Mythos and Logos

I will make you my di nner or let you go if I wish. Senseless is he who wishes to pit himself against tl1ose who are more powerful: He deprives himselfofvictory and suffers pai ns in disgrace." T hus spoke tl1e swift-flying hawk, tl1e bird oflong wings.3B The hawk and tl1e nightingale stand in stark contrast: male versus female (such are the gende rs of ilie nouns irex and aedon ), predator versus prey, high versus low, stronger (areion, kreisson) versus weaker, the arrogant and brutal versus tl1e frightened, but attractive ("she of tl1e dappled th roat") . Regarding thei r speech, the difl:erences are also patent. The nightingale, famous tl1roughout the world fo r the beauty and mournful quality of her song, is said to weep piteously (eleon ... myreto), altl1ough the hawk- brute tl1at he is-characterizes her cry as little more tl1an a screech (lelekas) .39 In contrast, the hawk speaks fo rcefully (epikrateos), witho ut euphemism or grace, describing a cruel world with more candor than tact. His discourse is typical of tl1ose most confident in tl1eir power, and confiden t also in the right of the powerful to prevail. The text labels it mythos. If mythoi on the battlefield have this character, mythoi uttered in agonistic assembles are somewhat more complex, for tl1ey come in "straight" and "crooked" varieties (fig. 1.2 ). Straight mythoi resemble those spoken Forms of speech used in conflict

Spheres of appropriate use

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Figm·e 1.2 The relations of mythos and logos in Hesiod.

13

Chapter One

The P1·e/;istm·y of Mythos a11d Logos

in combat. Sometimes they take the form of upright pronouncements by honest judges and witnesses; alternatively, they may appear as the unvarnished assertions of men who believe their strength, position in society, and/or the justice of their cause entitle them to prevail.40 In contrast, acts of perjury and corrupt judgments constitute crooked mythoi. U nprincipled and untrue, tl1ey permit tl1e worse sort of case and the worse sort of man to prevail: tl1at is, within legal contexts they fimction much as logoi do elsewhere. T hat such tlungs are possible Hesiod knows fro m experience, and he describes how his brotl1er, Perses, swore false oaths and bribed greedy kings in order to cheat him of his inheritance. Faced with this situation , tl1e poet calls on Perses to mend Ius ways and implores the kings to "straighten out the mythoi. " 41 He also laments tl1at such occurrences, virtually unheard of in better times, are becoming tl1e rule among men of the present Race oflron.

that end, he spoke as one inspired by the Muses, deploying tl1e verbal gifts given him by these mysterious goddesses. We began our discussion by considering the way they described their own powers of speech, but we have not yet paid attention to the way ilieir discourse is fi·amed in the text.

There will be no favor shown to the person who is true to his oath, nor to him who is just, Nor to the good man; ramer, men glorify arrogance [hybris] And tl1e doer of evils. They take justice into tl1eir own hands, and there is no Shame. H e who is evil will damage tl1e better man, Speaking with crooked mythoi as he takes tl1e oatl1. 42

The goddesses first spoke forth this mythos to me, T he Olympian Muses, daughters of aegis-bearing Zeus: "You field-dwelling shepherds are a bad, shameful lot, notl1ing but bellies. We know how to recount [legein] many falsehoods like real th ings, and We know how to proclaim truths when we wish." 44 This is the only time the word mythos appears in Hesiod outside a context of battle or assembly, and the on ly time such a discourse passes tlu·ough a female's moutl1 (table 1.4 ). Its usc, moreover, is pointed and precise, for with it the text resolves a serious logical conundrum. Thus, if we treat lines 27-28 as a proposition {P} having two parts: {Pd (= the Muses' assertion "we can speak truths"), and (P2 } (="We can tell lies resembling tru tl1s"), two hypotl1escs are possible regarding {P}. l. (P } is true, in which case both {Pd and {P 2 } are true. Accordingly, any utterance of the Muses-including {P}-may be true or false.

Our stance toward {P l and all Musely utterances must tl1erefore be one of doubt and suspicion. 2. {P} is f.:'llsc, in which case th ree alternatives are open: (a) Both {Pd and {P 2 } are false (-(PJ} and -{P2 }): The Muses can speak neither trutl1 nor falsehood; (b) + {P 1 } and - {P2 }: They can speak truth, but not falsehood; (c) -{ P 1 } and + {P2 }: They can speak falsehood, but not truth. If ( P} itself is false, however, we can eliminate the first two of tl1ese alternatives, for the Muses' ability to speak falsehood is demonsu·ated in tl1is very instance. We then must concl ude the Muses-and poets inspired by tl1em, Hesiod included-speak ta lsehoods only. Our stance in this instance will be not doubt, but active disbelief and rejection.

The picture Hesiod paints is intentionally bleak, consistent witl1 tl1e goal of his world ages discourse, a discourse the text identifies as logos, tl1ereby framing it as a "plausible falsehood" told for su·ategic purpose and rhetorical efl:ect. Here, Hesiod recounts to Perses a devolutionary narrative, ending witl1 men of me Iron Race, who cheat one anotl1er and give false testimony, and among whom "a brallier is not dear, as he formerly was." 43 Such people, he continues, can look forward to nothing but suffering, misery, and desu·uction at the hand of Zeus. Slyly and audaciously, he thus ( mis )represents his own particular interests as if they were universal, suggesting to Perses that should he "set straight" his crooked mythoi and settle tl1cir dispute on terms more favorable to tl1e poet, he will not only restore their proper brotherly relations but in so doing he will also reverse tl1e most fearful tendencies oftl1eir age and help check humanity's slide toward perdition. The logos of tl1e world ages is ilius o ne of tl1e instruments tl1rough which Hesiod hoped to overcome a man who had bested him in legal struggle, a man better connected, more powerful, and more ruthless than he. Toward

To avoid the profoundly destabilizing consequences of hypothesis (2c), one would like to confirm hypothesis ( 1 ). As we saw, however, hypotl1esis (1) can neither be proven nor disproven on the basis ofinternal evidence and logical intercncc. What is more, any attempt to act on it leads to its own undoing. At this impasse, the authorial voice intervenes decisively and

14

15

The Prehistm·y of Mythos nud Logos

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In Homer, rnythos often denotes what it normally does in Hesiod: a blunt and aggressive act of candor, uttered by powerful males in the heat of battle or agonistic assembly. 46 T hus, when Agamemnon rejects Chryses' enneaties and orders him from tl1e place of assembly under tl1reat of (sacrilegious) violence, that is a mythos (Iliad 1.25 = 1.379, 1.33). Addressing Agamemnon's ambassadors, Achilles speaks "without concern for consequences o r the feel ings ofotl1ers" (apelegeos) and calls his shockingly direct rejection of their offers a rnythos (9.309 ). Similarly, when Poseidon refuses Zeus's order to witl1draw from battle, asserti ng that he is equal to Zeus in honor and also no coward, his "powerful and unyielding" speech is also termed a rnythos (15.202). And when Odysseus halts the Greek soldiers in tl1eir flig ht to tl1e ships, clubbing them witl1 his scepter, he speaks tl1 us to tl1em: "Sit still and hearken to tl1e mythos of ot11ers, who are mightier tlun you: You, who are unwarlike, helpless, and not to be counted on in battle or in assembly." 4 7 Also noteworthy is the following passage fro m tl1e Odyssey, in wh ich Telemachus addresses his mother. "Go to your chambers, and tend to your works: The loom and the yarn , and order the servants To get to work. And rnythos will be of concern to menTa all men, and especially to me, for power in this household is mine." And she, struck witl1 wonder, went back to her chambers And took to heart the mythos of her child .48 To da te, the m ost exhaustive study of mythos in the epic is tlut of Richard Martin, who found that 155 out oftl1e 167 times (93 percent) m)'thos or tl1e verb mytheomai appears in the Iliad, me situation is one in which a powerful male either gives orders or makes boasts. In his view, mythos is always a speech of power, perfo rmed at lengtl1, in public, by one in a position of authority. Normally, a mythos forces assent from those to whom it is addressed, and only tl1ose equal in status to tl1e speaker are free to contest such a proclamation.49 T he situation, then, is very much like that we have encountered in Hesiod: mythos is an assertive discourse of power and authority that represents itself as sometl1 ing to be believed and obeyed.so

17

Chapte~·

011c

Nowhere in the epic docs it mean "false story," "symbolic story," "sacred story," or anythi ng of the sort.

VI Our revised understanding of these words has considerable impo rt for the way we understand the history of speech, thought, and knowledge/power relatio ns- sufficient, perhaps, that the first chapter in standard histories of Western philosophy will requ ire substantial mod ification. What Heraclitus championed as logos- " not simply language but rational discussion , calculation, and choice: rationality as expressed in speech, in thought, and in action," as o ne commentator puts it- is not what his predecessors took lo g os to be.5 1 Similarly, the mythos Plato sought to devalue had little in common with what H csiod and Homer understood by that term. Rather than taking the usage of a H eraclitus or a Plato to be normative, ex post facto, it is preferable to understand such usage in its proper moment as no thing more (bu t also nothing less) than a strategic- and ultimately successful - attempt to redefine and revalorize the terms in question. Accordingly, our view of the lexemes "mythos" and "logos" must become more dynamic. These are not words with fixed meani ngs (indeed , no such words exist), nor did their meanings change glacially over time, as the result of impersonal processes. Rather, these words, along with many others, were the sites of pointed and highly conseq uential semantic skirmishes fought between rival regimes of truth .52 The issues in these struggles were serio us, and the stakes were high. Whose speech would be perceived as persuasive, and whose merely beguiJ ing? Who would inspire trust, and who arouse suspicion? Which discourses would be associated with "truth," and which (at best) with " plausible falsehoods"? Whose constructs would hold the status of knowledge, and whose superstition? Whose characteristic practices of analysis, explication, pedagogy, and the like would command respect, and whose inspire a snicker? Whose speech (and style of speaking) would be invested with authority? T he connection of these to questions of power is not difficult to perceive: Who would attract students? Who counsel rulers? Whose words would be preserved, cited , and studied thereafter? As we will see in the next chapter, well into the fifth century, the meanings and values attached to mythos and logos remained unstable and contested, and the balance of power between them unresolved .

18

2

From Homer through Plato

I Between the end of the Iliad and the Odyssey's beginning, there lies a gap, a void so well-known as to need no narration but also too dreadful to permit any speech .' T he first poem ends on a note both ominous and somber: "Thus they arranged the funeral of Hector, breaker of horses." When the sequel opens, the war is over, the Greeks have long since departed, and we find Odysseus on the fabulous island of Ogygia, captive to Calypso's charms. All intervening events arc left to our imagination, particularly those attendi ng the fall ofTroy. Several books later, the epic arranges to fill in this lacuna, but it docs so in a curio us and revealing fashion . Odysseus by now has made his way to Phaeacia, where he recuperates and prepares for the final phase of his long voyage home. Although received hospitably by Alci no us, the Phaeacian king, he is wary and avoids revealing his identity until a climactic scene that falls toward the end of book 8. T he staging for that scene is meticulous. It begins as servants scurry to prepare a banq uet and Odysseus assumes his place next to the king. Next, Alcino us's herald ushers i.n the blind poet Demodocus, a man "far-famed" and " honored by the people." T hen, when the latter takes his seat- which is studded with silver and stands beside the hall's central pillar- Odysseus jwnps up. In a gestu re that in its cultural context is little short of astound ing, he carves tl1e roast boar tl1at is tl1e centerpiece of the meal and del ivers to tl1e poet the "champion's portion": the richest, finest cut of meat , normally reserved for the foremost hero present. Along with tl1is material tribute, he offers words of equal generosity, not just fo r Demodocus, but for all who ply his art. 19

Chapte1· Two

Among all peoples of the earth, poets Are apportioned honor and respect, since to them T he Muse taught song-ways and she loves the race of poets. 2 Feasting and celebration follow. Then, when all have eaten and drunk in abundance, Odysseus returns to his theme, praising Demodocus above all men, acknowledging him as inspired by the Muse, Apollo, or both. He further maintains that the bard sang the deeds of those who fought at Troy so well, it seems he must have been there or at least heard the story from someone who was. The situation is rich with irony, and a bolt of tension skitters beneath the surface as the hero who was there addresses the poet who was not; moreover, it is a hero who, being incognito, knows that the poet cannot possibly fathom the depth of his knowledge. And so he offers Demodocus a test, which-like that of which it inquires-may look innocuous but may also harbor hidden dangers. But come, change the subject and sing rightly about T he wooden horse that Epeius made, together with Athene, Which radiant Odysseus led to the foru·ess as a snare, Having filled it with men, the sackers ofTroy. If you can properly catalogue these things for me, Then I will proclaim to all people That a thoughtful god bestowed divine song on you. 3

Fl·om Homer through Plato

beside and hears him groan. At this, Alcinous halts the poet and adds, by way of explanation, "To sing these things is not pleasing to all." Then he wrns to Odysseus and asks that he final ly reveal himself, speaking u·uly and hiding nothing by means of clever ruses. Who is he? Where does he come from? What is his name? And tell us why you weep and mourn in spirit, Hearing of Argives, Danaans, and the fate ofTroy? This the gods shaped, and they spun out destruction For men, so there would be a song for those yet to come. 4 On this note, book 8 ends. When book 9 opens, Odysseus is ready to give his name and tell his story, truthfully and without hesitation. Once he begins, he will conti nue his narration through all of books 9 - 12, but first he once again pays u·ibute to Demodocus and to poets in generaL Truly it is a good thing to have heard a poet Such as this, resembling the gods in voice. For I say there is no more gracious end Than when joy holds the entire people, And banqueters throughout the halls Listen to a poet, Sitting in rows, and the tables beside are filled With bread and meat, and the wine-steward, drawing wine From the mixing bowl carries it about and pours it into cups. This seems to me the fairest of things. s

Picking up his lyre, the poet responds to this challenge: "Incited by the god, he made manifest his song." The song in question is simultaneously triumphant and horrific, detailing how the Greeks burnt their camps and put out to sea; how their best warriors remained hidden deep in the belly of the wooden horse; how the Trojans, after lengthy debate, decided to take the horse inside their walls and to treat it as an offering to the gods; how the Greeks burst forth with blood in tl1eir eyes and fire in their hands; finally, how Odysseus led them in the sack and pillage ofTroy. Hearing Demodocus sing these deeds, Odysseus melts. Tears stream down his cheeks, and in that moment his pains merge with those of his victims. In one of the epic's most moving passages, we are told that he cries just as a woman does when she sees her husband fall, fighting in defense of their city; as she cries when embracing him and feels him gasp his last; as she cries when enemies rain blows on her back and pry her from his lifeless body; as she cries when she is led to slavery and woe. Embarrassed, the hero covers his eyes, but he cannot conceal his emotion from the king who sits

In this episode we can recognize what is nothing less than a theory of poetry couched in narrative form. Alternatively, we might speak of it as poetry's own ideological justification and idealized self-representation, or yet again, as a myth about myth: a story poetry tells about itself as a means to defu1e, defend, reflect upon, romanticize, analyze, legitimate, exaggerate, mystify, modify, and advance its own position, not to mention that of its practitioners. In Demodocus and his performance at the Phaeacian court, the epic shows us everything that an age steeped in oral tradition takes poetry at its best to be. Repeatedly it insists that the poet's is a divinely authorized voice and that the tale he tells is absolutely reliable, for he is not only inspired by the Muse but tutored by her as well. In passing the test, Demodocus demonstrates what is asserted elsewhere of poets: they are able to sing knowledgeably and truthfully about the deeds of men and gods, past, present, and future. Poetry here claims for itself something close to omniscience. In the moment Demodocus meets Odysseus's cha1-

20

21

Chaptel' 111Jo

Fl'om Homer tln·o1tg!J Pinto

lenge, sings rightly of things he has never seen, and reconnects the Odyssey to tl1e Iliad, poetry shows itself capable of fillin g in the inevitable gaps tl1at mar any narrative, ideology, or line of discourse. Poetry furtl1er shows it is capable of arousing great emotions. Most often it arouses delight, as Odysseus stresses in describing the joy of song at tl1e end of a banquet, when food and drink, and the experiences of abundance, conviviality, and celebration produce pleasures of body and spirit alike. The story, however, emphasizes not joy, but sorrow, and one can think offcw moments more dramatic than when Demodocus's verses-i n which tl1e others find pleasure-draw tears fi·om tl1c most hardened of heroes. Odysseus's tears merit fiutl1er comment. For in the Ji nes that compare his grief to the sufl:"ering of tl1e Trojan women , tl1c Odyssey creates the impressio n that it has somehow overcome or reconciled their differences. In these lines, Greek and barbarian, male and female, victors and vanq uished , arc reuni ted in the universal experiences ofloss and suffering. But we must not permit o urselves to be caught up too completely by tl1e blandishments of the text and must emphasize tl1at tl1is moment, in which the most bitter oppositions are transcended, is not o nly a fiction but actually a fiction within a fiction. T hus, the epic poet tells us o ne story about the efrects a second story had when it was told by a character in the first story (himself a [fictive] poet) to a man who is a character in both stories. Although poetry has o nly Limited capacity to effect such reconciliation in lives o utside fiction, its real genius may lie in persuading audiences tl1at this sort of healing is possible, all evidence to the contrary notwithstanding. Thus, poetry makes a series of audacious claims on its own behalf: claims of its knowledge and truth; its emotional, therapeutic, and reconciliatory power. All of this is embedded in a narrative tl1at tells how Demodocus knew what happened at Troy and how he told that story so perfectly tl1at Odysseus wept like tile Trojan women. And still there is more. T hus, after weepi ng, Odysseus -tile master of wiles and prize liar of all antiquityfinally reveals himself and tells his tale, and here poetry claims for itself transformative power. Not only is it true, but its truth is contagious. Those who listen are moved , and being moved, they can (must?) tllemselves speak tru ly. It is also wortl1 noting tl1at when Odysseus finally concludes his narration, he uses a verb tl1at appears nowhere else in all of Greek epic: H e says he has " recounted a mythos" (mythologeuein, Odyssey 12.450 and 453 ). Whatever else mythos may mean in Homer or elsewhere-and as we shall see, it has meant numerous tl1ings to different people-the fo rce of this

unusual verb in this precise context is markedly emphatic. It is meant to provide unshakable assurance to the audience internal to the text (Alcinous and the Phaeacians), as well as that outside its confines (:til hearers and readers), that however fabulo us the events of Odysseus's narrative may seem and however suspect he may be as narrator, still we are justified in regarding his story as not just true, but edifyi ng, exemplary, authoritative.

In the preceding chapter we saw how tl1e use of mythos in th is passage serves to stabilize a set of ideas and images that might otllerwise be blown apart by tllei r own contradictions, achievi ng such stabi lity by designating tl1e Muses' otl1envise paradoxical act ofspeech as somethi ng one can accept as absolutely tru e in spite of its ambiguities and intern al contradictions. In th is game of mirrors, tl1e poet thus legitimates tl1e speech of the Muses, who in tum will legitimate tl1e speech of tl1e poet. But before legitimating hi m, tl1e Muses first abuse that Hesiod whom they encoLmter at the begin ni ng of this story, saying shepherds are a bad lot, "nothing but

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II The term mythos also occurs in an important p:tssage that Hesiod placed at tile beginning of his Theogony. 6 There, Hesiod engages in the fi rst autobiographical exercise in Western literature, describing how he came to be an insp ired poet. And in so doing, he provides tl1e only instance in all Greek epic where an :tuthor purports to quote speech fi·om the lips of tl1e Muses tl1emselves. Before introducing these li nes, however, he fi rst specifies tl1at what the goddesses spoke was notlling otl1er tha n a mythos, and tl1e way he uses this word helps us comprehend the fu ll fo rce it had for h im. They once taught fair song to Hesiod As he was herding sheep under sacred H elicon. And the goddesses first spoke forth this mythos to me, The Olympian Muses, daughters of aegis-bearin g Zeus. "You field -dwelling shepherds are a bad, shameful lot: notl1ing but bellies. We know how to recmmt many fa lsehoods like real things, and We know how to proclaim trutl1s when we wish." T hus spoke tile glib-tongued dau ghters of great Zeus And they gave me a scepter, a branch of Lu xuriant laurel , A wondrous thing tl1ey had plucked . And they breathed a voice into me: A divine one, so tl1at I might tell of things tl1at were and will be/

Chaptel' Ti11o

F1·om H omu· through Pinto

bellies." Beyond its punge ncy, this insult is formulaic and carries a set of implications about the dependability and veracity of those who are hu ngty and live in the open, physically-but also ontologically- closc to the animals they tend. Witness, for instance, Epimenides of Crete's paradoxical remark: "Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, idle bellies." 8 From the M uses, however, H esiod received two gifts th at transformed him fi·om the ncar-bestial state of the shepherd into that of the poet, close to the gods. Of these, the first was a laurel scepter, an instrument of the sort possessed by specially privileged kings, priests, seers, and poets. In all these cases, t he scepter is said to have been given them by a deity, most often Zeus, Apollo, or the Muses. (Hesiod's scepter bears a double origin: although it comes fi·om the Muses, its lalU'el is emblematic of Apollo.) Once received, it serves as a tangible sign of the deity's favor, and, as such, it organ izes the attention of o bservers in powerful ways. When people rise to speak with scepter in hand , it announces that divi ne favor has shone on them, or- to pursue the metaphor- that the divi ni ty conti nues to shine

siod, and all those who follmv him, regard the Muses as daughters of Zeus and the goddess Mnemosyne. As such, they arc the sole heirs to all that "Memory" possesses, for that is the literal meaning of their mother's name, and she has no other offspring. Knowledge of the past th us comes to poets with the air the Muses breathe into them and with which they for m their words. Knowledge of the future, however, comes from Apollo, patron of oracles, sibyls, and seers, to who m poets are also connected tluo ugh t11e lau rel of the scepter and also tl1e lyre, bo tl1 of which are closely associated with him. T hus, when poets sing tl1eir odes to accompaniment of tl1e lyre, not o nly do they jo in words to melody, but they also implicitly anno unce d1at in their perfo rmance are fused the gifts of Apollo and the Muses: the knowledge of things past and d1ose yet to come. Like all gifts in a precapitalist economy, th ose initially bestowed by d1e Muses are part of a process and not its end. Rath er, they open up a relation of ongoing reciprocity between donor and recipient. IfHcsiod initially receives his voice and knowledge-that is to say, the style and content of his poetic speech- fi·om the Muses, they ask that he return something to them by beginning and ending each poetic performan ce wid1 mentio n of them . Each time that he docs so, he acknowledges his grati tude for d1eir gifts and invokes d1eir continued assistance as he commemorates them and offers his poem in their honor and celebration. Furth er, at d1e absolute peak of his poetic career, when he won a great public competi tion, Hesiod carried his prize back to Mount H elicon, where the Muses fi rst approached him, and dedicated it to t11e goddesses who had given him his art.

through the medit-tm of that speaker and his speech.

Elsewhere, Hesiod gives a materialist account of how the Muses grant extraordinary powers o f speech to Icin gs by pouring "sweet dew" into their mouths and, more specifically, onto their tonguesY Wi thi n this trope, a complex ideology is embedded. To begin, this dew is divine food, a gift of the gods that descends from heaven to earth and transforms those who are privileged to ingest it. Some bits of dew are not ingested bu t cling to the royal to ngue, whence still smaller residues pass to the words issuing from it and produce unique effects on the ears of audiences, who as a direct , material result, will experience royal speech as something sweet and soothing, literally imbued with the divine. This brings us to the second gift H esiod claims to have received from the Muses: a new voice, a divine o ne that they literally breath ed into his lungs. In this strikingly corporeal account of in-spiration , air plays much the same role as did "sweet dew" vis-a-vis royal speech . But in some ways, the poet's relation to the M uses is depicted as closer and stro nger than that of th e king. For if royal speech acq uires divine character by virtue of its honeyed veneer, poetic speech is represented as divine in its own substance, for its divinity resides in the very air of which it is constituted . Yet again, if dew is a special food that Muses give kings, what they give poets is a portion o f their own life fo rce, which bears something of their own nature: most precisely, their beau ty, grace, and knowledge. Regardin g the nature of that knowledge, we need to observe t hat H e-

T hese narrative details reflect -and ideologically embellish- the institutions and practices of an oral culture whose chief technology for preserving and transmitting traditional knowledge \Vas poetic speech, the meters, melodies, and fo rmulaic conventions of which served as powerful aids in mnemonics and performance. With in such a context, poetry is society's chief archival medjum, as well as its most authoritative discourse and prime instrument for cultural reproduction over the course of generations. Wid1 th e introductio n of writi ng, however, there follow vast changes: not overnight or in uni linear fashion, but gradually and unevenly, as the result of experimentation and struggle. In the case of Greece-where alphabetic script was first perfected - those changes arc most evident in d1e period that separates the eighth-century world of H o mer and H esiod fro m th at of Plato in the fo urth.

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III

C!Japte1· 11110

From Homer through Plato

Among other things, d1e nature of discursive authority changes with the introduction of writing. Words that endure on paper or parchment can be lifted out of their immediate human context and are deprived of the extralinguistic factors- music, rhythm, feasting, conviviality- that enhance their eftect. Further, they can be reexamined , studied, and subjected to criticism from novel, unanticipated perspectives, with no oppornmity to respond or modulate their presentation to take account o f each audience's interests. Alth ough poets retain much of their prestige and cu ltural importance, attacks on them begin to appear in the writings of pre-Socratic philosophers in the sixth century. 10 Thus, for example, while acknowledging that "since the beginning, everyone has learned in accordance with Homer," Xenophanes went on to complain:

What understanding or intellect have d1ey? They trust in poets of the common people and treat tl1e mob as d1eir teacher, not knowing that "the masses are bad , d1e good are few." 15

Interesting enough, this criticism itself is written in epic hexameters. A generation later, Heraclitus writes in aphoristic prose and is even harsher on d1e poets. After iro nically referring to H omer as "wisest of all the Greeks," he uses the great bard's perplexity at a child 's riddle to show how people are fooled by the most obvious things. 12 Similarly, he dismisses H esiod as a "polymath" vvhose wide-ranging knowledge failed to make him wise : notwithstanding his status as "teacher of most people," he couldn't understand the relation of night and day. And in his most flamboyant sall y, Heraclitus suggests that Homer and Archilochus sho uld be d1rown out of the contests where poets and athletes compete for ho nors, then be beaten with a stick for good measure. 13 Heraclitus scoffs at poets and also at those who claimed inspiration from Apollo (oracles and sibyls), as well as certain religious practices (purifications, worship of statues of the gods, Dionysiac processions, mystery initiations) and sages of the preceding generation (H ecataeus, Pythagoras, and Xenophanes ). 14 Of all the ancients, he shows respect for one only: Bias of Priene, whom he explicidy praises in o ne fragment and quotes with approval in an other. Bias seems to have had two advantages: First, he was a jurist and not a poet; second, like Heraclitus, he was disti nctly eli tist and aristocratic in his views. Such sentiments are evident in his most famous aphorism, the one Heraclitus cites while heaping scorn on hoi polloi fo r their intellectual shortcomings, as evidenced by their respect for poetry.

Notwithstanding the ferocity of this critique, regarding mythos H eraclitus is silent. Not once docs tl1is word appear in the 129 surviving fragments ofhis -.vritings. Instead , he centers his attention on another form o f speech: logos, which in his usage is more likely to be a discourse of written prose than one of o ral poetry, and more likely to be one of argumentation than of narrative. Log os also differs from mythos in other important ways. First, it generall y makes no claim of supernatural origin or inspiration. Second, it does not insist on its own trud1 but presents itself in a form designed to be persuasive, implicidy calling on its hearer to refute or accept it. Third and d1is is a dimension Heraclitus minimizes but one d1at Homer, Hesiod, and others stressed- logos can persuade d1rou gh unscrupulous means: seduction, deception, Aattery, guile, and many more. In this aspect, logos is particularly associated with women, tricksters, and figures of limited physical or political strengtl1 who manage to overcome stronger adversaries by their shrewd speech . Heraclints ignores myd1 altogether, in favor of a sanitized logos, and even some poets back away from mythos. Pindar, for instance - who delights in telling the old stories of gods and heroes- uses d1e term quite rarely, and when he does, he always associates it with falsehood and deception. 16 Od1ers, however, continue to accord high val ue to myth while red1inking ilie boundaries of this category. Consider, for instance, the longest piece ofXenop,hanes' writing tl1at survives: a poem in which he describes an ideal symposium or drinking party in rich and affectionate detail. Initially, he dwells on the material side of d1e celebration , describing how d1e symposium chamber, as well as d1e vessels, implements, and the participants themselves, have all been cleansed and purified for d1e occasion. Servants spread incense and expensive perfumes, ilien crown tl1e guests wid1 delicate garlands. Several types of wine are available, including honeyed and Aowered varieties. T he elegance ofilie food, however, lies in its simplicity: golden bread, cheese, and rich honey, aU piled o n a majestic table d1at stands beside a flower-strewn altar. Here, one notes a striking o mission iliat can hardly be accidental: in contrast to d1e banquets described by Homer and others, meat is absent, which is to say d1ere is no hint o f cruelty or bloodshed in the preparations for d1is feast, and no "champion's portion" over which the guests might quarrel. After fi lling in d1ese physical details,

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Homer and Hesiod attributed to d1e gods all The shameful things that are blameworthy among humans: Stealing, commiting adu ltery, and deceiving each oilier. 11

Chapte1· Trvo

F1·om Homer through Plato

Xenophanes turns to the verbal performances he considers appropriate for so pacific and harmonious an occasion.

their mark of distinction. Sometimes the ethos tl1ey enacted was decorous, and never more so tl1an in Xenophanes' account. At other times, copious drink gave rise to ribaldry, licentiousness, and abandon, as participants dramatized tl1e freedom their class and breeding gave them from the constraints of conventional mores. 1s Given tl1is range of possibilities, Xenophanes takes pains to make clear that some sorts of poetry are appropriate for his idealized symposium and others are not. To tl1is end, he rejects the well-known and much-beloved tales of gigantomachies, titanomachies, and so forth. His concern is for decorum, but for social utility as well. Thus, he associates stories of internecine conflict among divi ne beings witl1 iliose of civic strife at ilie human level, all of which cut against the interests and stability of ilie state. Similar concerns are evident when he rebukes Homer and Hesiod for tl1eir stories of the gods "stealing, commiting adultery, and deceiving each other." Again, a pragmatic test is clear: behaviors that would undermine important institutions (marriage, the fanllly, law, commerce, ilie polis) if enacted by humans ought not, in his view, be recounted of gods. Yet nowhere does he speak of the stories he rejects as "myths." Rather, mythos remains a term of high respect in his vocabulary, reserved for stories that are moral in their content, reverent in tl1eir attitude, and socially beneficial in their consequences. Oilier sorts of narrative exist, to be sure, including some Xenophanes would censor, but for these he coins a new and derisive nan1e: plasmata ton P1'0teron, "fabrications of earlier times." I9

Song and merriment fill the house. It is fitting, first of all, for men of good cheer to hymn the god With well-spoken m)•thoi and pure logoi, Having poured libations and prayed to be able to accomplish Just things, for that is easier. It is not an outrage to drink as much as you can, and still reach Home without an attendant (provided you're not too old! ). Among men , the one to praise is he who, when drinking, makes noble deeds known, As memory and striving for excellence make them known to him , Not treating battles of tl1e Titans, Giants, Or Centaurs- fabrications of earlier timesNor violent civic disorders: there is notl1ing useful in tl1ese. But always to have consideration for tl1e gods is good Y T lus is tl1e only place in Xenophanes' extant writings where he speaks explicitly of mythos. In many ways his view is continuous with that ofHomer and Hesiod, although some nuanced changes are evident. Mytl1 for him remains an oral, poetic performance, informed by memory and appropriate for celebrating the gods. No mention is made of inspiration, hmvever: speech begins with a human poet and passes to an audience tl1at includes tl1e divine. Similarly, although memory remains tl1e basis for the poet's endeavor, it is no longer personified as the goddess who was mother of the Muses. Rather, it is a faculty internal to the poet and necessary fo r him to function as such, much Like his "striving for excellence." If ideas about the source and nature of poetry have shifted, so also has the context for its performance. With the end of kingship and the rise of the polis (processes tl1at unfolded over many centuries, wiili many local differences, but that were largely complete by the sixtl1 and fiftl1 centuries), the banquet- a relatively inclusive gathering, whose participants took synaesthenic pleasure in all the good, beautiful, and meaningful tl1ings tl1at royal generosity could set flowing down ilirough the social order- yielded to oilier sites as the place where poets were most often heard . Among the most important of these, along with tl1e poetic competitions I mentioned in passing, were the drinking parties, or symposia. T hese were relatively exclusive gatl1erings of aristocratic men, who met in an atmosphere of privacy and leisure, where they could both cultivate and display the tastes that were

Most of the pre-Socratic philosophers were content to speak chiefly of logos, and tl1ey avoid mentioning mythos at all. Only once does one find something tl1at appears to be criticism of mythoi as such, and close analysis shows it is nothing of the sort. T his comes when Democrin1s reflects on the fears ignorant people suffer as a result of the stories they hear about fate after deatl1. 20 T hese stories he labels pseudea, the standard word for lies or falsehoods. And those responsible fo r them he calls mythoplasteontes ("mytl1 fabricators"), a compound neologism that connects two lexical domains witl1 which we are familiar: the noun traditionally used for true, authoritative, and trustworiliy accounts ( mythos), and tl1e verb used for artisanal creations in malleable, impermanent materials such as clay, plaster, and wax; also in words and ideas (plasso, "to mold, form , fabricate"). This last term can have a shady sense. Both it and words derived from it are used to

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IV

Clmpte1· Tw o

Fl·om Ho mer through Plato

speak offorgeries, counterfeits, and fictio ns o f var io us sorts. It is in just this sense that Xcnophancs spoke of the stories he wished to reject as plasmata) " fabricatio ns." 21 T he weight ofDemocritus's criticism thus falls o n the second half of the co mpound , mytho-plasteontes. That is, he denounces not " myth" but rather those who fabricate falsehoods (the plasteontes of pseudea), which they pass off to the foolish as sacred truths (mythoi). This interpretation is confirm ed by other fi·agments where Democriw s exhibits very traditio nal views toward myth, poets, and poetry, as when he says Ho mer was "possessed of a divine nature" and " built a cosmos out of verse," or when he asserts " that which a poet wri tes in a state of inspiration and with a sacred spirit is extremely beautifu l." 22 Most str iking of all is the only other occasion on which he speaks explicitly of myth, pronouncing aphoristicall y: " It is necessary to be one whose mythos is true, not one whose log oi are ma ny." 2 3 Other giants of pre-Socratic philosophy- particularly those who wrote in verse, spoke respectfully (if unconventionally) of the gods and made claims to inspiratio n- use tl1e term mythos to invest particularly impo rtant and/ or difficult po rtions of t heir \oVritings with transcendent autl1ority. Parmen ides offers a clear cxample.24 T hus, in the prefatory section of his work, he claims to base his teachings on tl1ings that were revealed to him duri ng an experience of celestial ascent, which he describes in detail. H e tells how divine maidens, daughters o f th e sun, took hi m o n chariots up thro ugh tl1e sky, till tl1ey reached the gates of day and night. Passing through these, he was met by a goddess he does not identify by name, but whom some scholars have identified with Justice, so me with Trutl1, and some with Memory. Greeting him wa rmly, this deity showed hi m two radically d ifferent " paths" or modes of knowledge, one identified with truth itself and the other with " the opinions of mortals, in which tl1ere is no true belief." Mter this extraordinary preamble, Parmenides shifts from heaven to earth , past to present, narrative to didactic voice, and attempts to evaluate what the goddess taught him . Writing in epic verse, at this critical juncw re in his presentatio n he secures tl1e attention ofhis audience (whom he seems to regard as listeners, not readers) by haili ng tl1em tl1us: "Come, I will speak, and having heard my mythos) you will carry it away." 25 T hen , he develops the opposition between the two patl1s as a choice between being and becomi ng, essential reality and superficial appearance, and also between two irreconcilable propositions: " I t is" and "It is not." T he latter he rejects as absurd, and when he moves to clinch his case, he does so with a fam iliar term : " O ne mythos of the way remains: 'It is."' 26

Empcdocles is given to similarly po rtentous usc of the same term. 27 To back up his account of the way human beings were created , he asserts it is a "mythos neither ignorant, nor erran t." 28 Again , when introducing his theory of metempsychosis, he attempts to secure the confidence of his audience by making claims of tl1e highest o rder.

30

Friends, I know that tru th is in the mythoi I will tell . But it is very difficul t For men, and tl1e onset of belief is harsh in their brcasts. 29 Like Ho mer and H esiod , Empedocles invokes the Muse and seeks inspiration, something done by no otl1er pre-Socratic thin ker (although some sources do report that H eraclitus's book was titled " T he Muses") .30 On one occasion, he asks the Muse to help him sing of the gods. On another, he says she puts her log os in his visceral o rgans as the basis of his knowledge. Yet again, he implores her to let him hear everything it is licit for mortals to know, and in the same passage he begs the gods: " Turn tl1e madness of others away from my tongue and let a pure stream run from my holy moutl1 ." 31 But tl1ere are also moments when Empedocles aspires to produce a discourse tl1at will exercise greater authority still. Toward that end , he reworks the ideological edifice in which poets and poetry traditionally held privileged position . To appreciate the fu ll extent of his boldness, it is helpful to sketch some of his views on metempsychosis. Like many others of his era and milieu, Em pedocles maintai ned that tl1e soul is immortal. H e furtl1er believed tl1at every soul o nce inhabited a god but fell from its divine state as tl1e result of a grievous transgression. Thereafter, the soul journeys tl1rough a long series o f varied incarnations, graduall y purifying itself o f that sin as it passes fi·om vegetable to ani mal, tl1en to tl1c human realm. Within the human, it begins with lives and bodies of lowly sorts, then moves to ever-mo re elevated o nes, wo rking its way slowly back to the empyrean. Accordingly, E mpcdocles- who was famed as a poet, physician, and prophet , as well as a sage- understood his own existence as one temporary corporeal abode among ma ny: " Once I was born a youth, a maid , / A shrub, a bird, and a briny fish of tl1c sea." 32 The end , however, is in sight , for he has himself in mind when he coyly describes tl1e fina l stages in the cycle of rebirth . Toward the end , [souls) become seers and poets and healers, And the fo remost of earth-dwelling people. From this state they shoot up as gods, best in ho nor.33 31

Chnpte1· Two

From Homer through Plato

We arc th us meant to understand that a poet's speech mediates between gods and humans, because the poet is, literaJly and precisely, the next best thing to divinity. Even this is not enough. Seeking to imbue his account with the fullest conceivable measure of authority, Empedocles takes his story one step further, claiming he has finished the journey and regained his stams as a deity. "Dear friends," he caJls to the citizens of his city, "I go about you as an immortal god, no longer mortal." It is in this divine persona that he addresses his audience: "Know d1ese things clearly, having heard this mythos from a god." 34 Again we encounter a play of mirrors. The speaker authorizes his speech by calling it mythos, and the speech authorizes its speaker by calling him god. Admirable d1ough it is for its sheer audacity, Empedocles' attempt runs the risk of falling flat. In its potential failure, however, we may recognize something important. When functioning wid1maximal efficiency-as in Hesiod's hands, for example- the apparatus d1at produces the authority of mythos brings three operators into relation: ( 1) a deity (i.e., the figure of a deity, as assumed by and constituted in d1e discourse); (2) a poet, and (3) an audience. Of these, the poet is d1e most active agent, but neither he nor his audience is permitted to view him as such. Rather, they are conditioned to understand him as an instrument of mediation, through whom a discourse of absolute trud1 and transcendent importance jumps the gap between heaven and earth. In such a construction, the poet's self-representation is simultaneously self-effacing and self-aggrandizing insofar as the privileged status he claims - his demand for the audience's attention and trust- is grounded in a speech d1at represents itself as not being "his" in any ultimate sense. T hings are different when Empedocles reduces the dlfee operators of the traditional apparatus (god, poet, audience) to two (god-poet and audience), claiming privilege for a speech he acknowledges-even celebrates-as his own. In this simplified, two-operator version, the system may find it difficult to conceal its workings from the audience, perhaps even from the god-poet himself. There may be too few mirrors and too litde smoke to accomplish the trick.

That all speech is human seems to have been taken for granted among d1ose intellectuals in d1e latter half of d1e fifd1 century who called themselves Sophists. "Man is d1e measure of all things," said Protagoras, generaJly regarded as d1e earliest of their number, and he also maintai ned one could

never know whed1er or not d1e gods exist given d1e uncertainty ofd1e subject and me brevity of human life .35 If all speech is human, however, questions inevitably arise about d1e status of poeu-y, given poets' u·aditional claims to divine inspiration. Did poets deceive d1eir audience, or were d1ey themselves deceived? How ought one regard d1e stories they told, particularly mose d1ey told about d1emselves and d1eir relations to gods? Do poets speak mythos, logos, or bom, and what value ought be attached to these categories? Is poetic language simply an instrument of persuasion, or even deceit? Can one develop a language wim which to explore d1ese issues, or is all language naming more than an instrument of persuasion, even deceit? T hese and related questions were all on d1e Sophist agenda, about which we know much too litde because of me paucity of surviving fragments and d1e distortions of their opponents' attacks. 36 In a few cases, however, one can get a sense of what me Sophists' positions were. Thus, for example, we have a long rhetorical exercise in which Gorgias (who is said to have been Empedocles' pupil) defends Helen of Troy agai nst d1e poets who falsely censured her and mose who believed d1em, which is to say, d1e whole Greek world. Poetry, he maintains, is nothing more d1an "logos wid1 meter," and as such it needs to be subjected to critical examination. Going further, he develops d1e view d1at logos can persuade by manipulating opinion, playing on me emotions, arousing delight, and in many od1er ways d1at have nodllng to do wid1 communicating d1e trud1. On the conu·ary, logos has d1e power to bewitch or enchant, working on d1e soul in much d1e same way drugs act on me body. Accordingly, Gorgias argues mat if Helen was persuaded by Paris's logos to abandon her husband, we ought to forgive her, for she was deceived and powerless to resist.37 Gorgias's defense of Helen is an exu·aordinary text, a jusdy celebrated display of sophistic virtuosity that was finely honed and well rehearsed before being written down in the form mat survives. Moreover, the choice of topic for dlls braV1u·a set piece can hardly be accidental. By defending Helen, Gorgias is not just demonsu·ating his capacity to argue a position mat flies in the face of all prevailing opinion ("To make the weaker logos d1e stronger," as Protagoras would put it). Beyond dtis, one must recall mat Helen's abduction was d1e motivating incident for the Trojan War, which fu rnished all d1e material of d1e Homeric epics. In defending her, Gorgias d1us takes aim at Homer, whom he tacidy accuses of having gotten her story wrong and, as a consequence, having erred about everyd1ing else. The argument with which Gorgias acquits Helen also suggests a set

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v

Chn.ptcr· 711'0

of further conclusions, which he leaves tantalizingly implicit. For ifHome r used poet:ry-"/ogoJ· with meter"-to persuade us of Helen's guilt, we too can be forgiven, for we were deceived by his language and were powerless to resist, until saved fl·om our error by Gorgias's more powerful (i.e., more persuasive) language. Being deceived, however, is not necessarily a bad thing. Or so it would seem from Gorgias's comments on the chief poetic form of his own day, the public performance of tragic drama: "Tragedy inspires and proclaims. It is something wonderful for people to see and hear, and produces deception through its mythoi and the passions it arouses. Further, one who deceives [in this fashion] is more just than one who does not, while he who has been deceived is wiser than he who has not." 38 In this fragment, Gorgias hints at a tl1eory of myt11 tl1at has vast implications. Embedded in his brief remarks are theories of literature, art, pedagogy, and etlucs. Most immediately, he treats myt11 as a narrative tl1at is ( l ) emotionally moving, (2) deceptive or misleading, but ( 3) misleading toward a good end. From tl1ese premises, he argues tl1at authors use myth to impart sometl1ing that makes their audiences wiser and better. As a result, he believes they are engaged in a moral project, however much their stories may be lies and t11eir acts manipulation: those who deceive in tl1is fashion are "more just" tl1an t11ose who do not.

Things are hardly so simple, however. One has to ask what it is tl1at audiences learn and in what sense it makes tllem better. For that matter, by whose judgment are tl1ey improved a.nd accord ing to what standard? Yet again, how is it that authors know what will make audiences better, and why is it tl1at audiences initially lack such knowledge? Even if one grants the assumptions of a cultural elite tl1at authors know what audiences need to know, what justifies tl1eir use of manipulation to convey this edifying knowledge rather than straightforward explication? Gorgias is silent on all tl1ese points. Not so a Sophist of the next generation, who wrote as follows. There was a time when tl1e life of people was unordered, Bestial, and a servant of nught. There was no reward for tlle good, And no punishment for tl1e evil had come into being. Then, it seems to me, people established Punitive laws, so tl1at Justice would be absolute ruler Over all and have Violence as a slave, And if anyone did wrong, he was punished. 34

Fmm Homer throu:!]h PlMo

Then, when t11e laws kept tllem From openly doing acts of violence, It seems to me they did t11em in secret. And a man-someone shrewd and wise-first had t11e t11ought To invent fear oft11e gods fo r mortals so t11at There would be something fearsome to evil people, should they Do or say or tJ1ink anytl1ing in secret. Therefore he introduced the divine As a deity: blooming with undyit~g life, . . . Listening and looking wit11 its mmd, tlm1kmg ~wte a .l~t, . Paying close attention to these things, and havmg a divme nature, One who will hear all that is said among mortals And will be able to see all that is done. If you plan some evil silently, . You will not escape t11e gods' notice in tllese t11mgs_, . For there is much understanding in t11em . Recounting t11ese logm, He inu·oduced tJ1e sweetest of lessons, . Having hidden the truth with a ~aJse logos. He affirmed that the gods dwellm t11at place whete, By saying t11is, he could most frighte_n people. As a result he knew the fears t11at exist for mortals And tJ1e advantages of a u·oubled life. . He set t11e gods in t11e circling heavens above, where one perceives Lightning flashes, t11e dread roar Of th under, t11e starry-eyed body of t11_e sky, The beautiful brocade of Time, tllat wtse craftsman, From which t11e bright starry matter goes forili And tJ1e moist rain falls to eartl1. H e p laced such fears all around people, . And t11rough tllem, with his logos he well estabhshed The divinity in a conspicuous place And stamped out lawlessness witl1 laws. Thus, I t11ink, did someone firs_t persuade . . . . 39 Mortals to acknowledge the extstence of a race of dlvuutles. Like some oft11e ot11er materials we have considered, this is a~1other i l~­ stance of myt11 about myth: a tlleory of certain privileged ~arratlves t11at ~s itself encoded in narrative form. It is also one of t11e earhest, mos~ t11or ough and most ruthlessly cynical t11eories of ideology- more specifically, ~ . as .Ideology-in the history ofWestern t11ought. It purports to o f re 1 1g10n . · d be a u·ue story that reveals the falsity of ot11er, wi~ely a~cepted stone.~ an does so by recounting t11ei r origins. I n so doing, It depiCts tllose stotles as 35

Chapter Tivo

From Home1· tbfottgh Plato

persuasive fictions about the gods that have been fabricated and propagated by the state for purposes of its own. It further defines the state's actions and purposes as moral, since with false stories as its tool (pseudei logoi), the state completes the project it begins- but cannot finish -with its invention oflaw. Law here is understood as the insu·ument through which the state imposes public morality, instructing citizens in what they ought and ought not do, thereby lifting them out of a state of bestial anarchy. Further, the law continues to warn citizens that the state is always vvatching. It threatens harsh consequences sho uld they not compl y with its demands, and, when necessary, it makes an o bject lesson of those it catches in transgression. T he efficacy of the law is restricted, however, for it does not peneu·ate to the sphere of the private. Where the state cannot see- or more to the point, where citizens /mow the state cannot see-public morality cannot be enforced. The private remains a space of liberty, a line of resistance, and the outer limit of state control. In the face of this challenge, the state responds by inventing false stories about imaginary beings who exercise surveillance even in the most secret realms and wreak terrible vengeance on hidden offenders. Further, the text approvingly suggests that should the populace be persuaded by these stories-which it calls logoi and not mythoi-fear and guilt will follow them everywhere, even into the sphere of the private, which is thus colonized by public morality and falls under the state's conu·ol. T he play from which this passage is quoted was produced toward th e end of the fifth century, and ancient sources atu·ibute it to two different authors. Some take it to be the work of Euripides, which is a plausible suggestion. More convincing, however, is the u·adition that assigns it to C ritias, a man who studied under both Socrates and Gorgias, was a habitue of aristocratic clubs and symposium circles, and wrote numerous works in poetry and prose. 4 ° Fiercely aristocratic in his politics, he was a great admirer of Spartan values and institutions and is best known to history as leader of the Spartan-backed "Tyranny ofThirty" that assumed power in Athens immediately after its defeat in the Peloponnesian War ( 404-3 ). Accounts of Critias's rule uniformly describe it as a reign of terror, in which as many as 1,500 Athenians were executed and all leading democrats were driven from the city. Critias also built a network of spies and inform ers and used both legal and exualegal mechanisms to bully potential opponents into submission. Resentment was widespread, however, and rapidly led to rebellion. Within a year the Thirty were overthrown and Critias killed. All records of this period derive from his opponents and reflect their harsh

judgments of him. Still, we are able to understand the policies he pursued as continuous with the ideas articu lated in the frag ment I have quoted . Common to both is a view of the state as the instru ment through which a small elite can and ought to impose moral order o n citizens, who are by nature weak, unru ly, and given to secret sins. Further, in pursuit of this noble end, rulers are justified in using the most effective means available, even those that might othenvise be morally dubious. Chief among those dubious means are the lying discourse of false stories about the gods and the blunt use of fo rce. And if a line of continuity connects the views articulated by Critias-the-author to the policies pursued by C ritias-the-tyrant, another line joins them to the views espoused by another champion of the Athenian aristocracy, who wrote at much greater length and with much greater subtlety and brilliance than his fi·iend, fellow student, and close kinsman, Critias. I refer to none otl1er tl1an Plato. 41

By the end of tl1e fifth century, tl1e tremendous autl1ority assigned to poetic discourse far exceeded the role poetry actually played withi n the changing relations of power and knowledge tl1at constituted Atl1enian society. Poetry remained central to tl1e education given the elite and enjoyed high popularity and cultural prestige, particularly in the tragic dramas that were part of tl1e great civic festivals. Still, the importance of state and commercial discourse-legal, political, and practical speech, all ofwhich took tl1e fo rm of prose, often written-was fast eclipsing anytl1ing poetry could offer. In this volatile situation, numerous claimants emerged, all of whom sought to displace poetry from its paramount position and to establish themselves, their pt
36

37

VI

Chapte1' 71Jio

Frwn Homer thnmgh Plato

selves- in a fashion simultaneously modest and aggressive-to rivals who styled themselves "the wise" (sophistai). Rooted in the values and habits of an oral culture, Socrates limited his activities to public debate and private instruction and never committed his views to writing. Mter Socrates' death, however, Plato wrote abundantly and depicted himself as faitl1fu lly pursuing metl1ods and projects initiated by his master. In this spirit, h e continued to wage a double campaign on behalf of "philosophy," struggling against poetry in the first instance and against other aspirants to poetry's mantle in the second. Against poetry, Plato leveled a host of familiar charges. Following Xenophanes, he condemns certain traditional poetic themes on practical and utilitarian grounds. One must not recount battles among tl1e gods, for instance, since these promote civil strife, and tales of a dreary underworld are likely to sap soldiers' courage.42 Again, echoing Gorgias, he treats poeu-y as a form of logos tltat is enhanced by melody, rhytl1m, and meter: features that add nothing to make it truer, clearer, more readily verifiable, or more an alytically rigorous. 4 3 What they add, in fact, is downright deu·imental, for they help tlte poet manipulate audiences by stimulating emotion. In this, poetry appeals to tl1e basest part of tlte human soul ( tlut which is appetitive, not disciplined or reasoning) and to t he baser forms of humanity: women, children, and tl1e lower su·ata. Throughout books 2 and 10 of the Republic, Plato rails at poets and poeuy Some of his arguments are su·ikingly novel, as when he treats poeu·y as an art of mimesis tl1at satisfies audiences witl1 cheap imitations of what is real, making tl1em lazy consumers of images ratl1er tl1an devoted seekers after trutl1. Again, he grants tlte favorite claim of poets-tltat of divine inspiration-but inverts it so that it Lmdercuts, rather than bolsters, their au tl1ority. In conu·ast to tl1e mutually sustaining relation of tltought and speech he takes to be characteristic of philosophic practice, Plato tl1Us depicts the poet's inspired speech as utterly divorced from his mental processes. When tl1e Muses speak tlu·ough him, tl1e poet literally loses his mind and enters a state of "divine madness," in which he can u·ansmit tl1e goddesses' speech witl1out understanding it and can initiate no knowledgeable speech of his own. 44 Far from an authority, the poet emerges as sometl1ing of a cipher. The list of charges is long. Poets are ignorant and virtually unconscious, but powerfully manipulative. At best, tl1eir poems are imitations, at worst, fa lsehoods, and in either event tl1ey can be impious in nature or antisocial in their consequences. What is more, they make promi nent use of mythoi,

a class of narratives Plato categorizes as a form of logos tl1at possesses less u·utl1 tl1an oiliers, being " false on tl1e whole, but still having some trutl1 in it." 45 Moreover, it is tl1ese morally defective and epistemologically ambiguous stories iliat are the poet's very stock-i n-trade, for as Socrates observed in tl1e last hours before !tis deatlt: "If a poet is really going to be a poet, he needs to make mythoi and not logoi." 46 The context for this remark holds considerable interest, since tl1e narrative of Socrates' deatl1 is itself a foundation myth of sorts. Plato recounts that willie awaiting execution, Socrates-who had never before deigned to compose poetry of any sort-decided to write a hymn to Apollo and some otl1er verses. When asked why, he described a recurrent dream in wh ich a voice told him to make music. Previously, be had understood tl1is as encouragement in pursuing his normal endeavors, since "philosophy is tl1e greatest music of all. " After his conviction, however, he began to wonder whether the dream ought to be taken literally. Accordingly, he decided to write poems, but since he was not himself inclined to mytl1ology (ouk . .. mythologilws), he was obliged to borrow his mytl1s from Aesop. In tl1e intricacies of tl1is passage, one senses Plato's skillful hand, as he su·uggles to maintain Socrates' longstanding opposition to poeu·y and mym against hints of a deathbed conversion. In general, Plato is condescending toward philosophers who stoop to u·affic in mythoi. Parmenides, Xenophanes, Empedocles, Pythagoras, and Protagoras all come in for criticism of tl1is sort. 47 Still, he himself is not above quoting a mytl1 when it helps to advance his case. When he does so, however, he is usually careful to announce tl1e inferior status of such a discourse and to caution the reader iliat it contains no more than a faulty approximation ofa u·u th otl1erwise extremely difficult or elusive. Still, it is only on tl1e rarest of occasions that he permits tl1e character of Socrates to deliver in his own voice a discourse labeled as mythos. Among tl1e most revealing of tl1ese is Socrates' fint speech in tl1e Phaedrus, in which he develops a tl1eme inu·oduced by a rival rhetorician: why it is better to be seduced by one who is not a lover ratl1er tl1an by one who is. Strikingly, he begins witl1 an invocation, sometl1ing common enough among poets, but virtually unprecedented for him : "Come, o clear-voiced Muses.... Assist me witl1 tl1e mythos iliat tlus most excellent man compels me to recount." 48 Later, when he begins to speak in elegant poetic meters, he cites tlus as proof of tl1e Muses' inspiration . Su-angely, however, Socrates keeps his head covered , a gesture he interprets (only after tl1e fact) as one of shame, given Ius affront to tl1e god Eros. Half-jokingly ilien, he dis-

38

39

Chapter Tl!lo

H·om Howe'' through Plato

avows responsibility for the speech . It is not he who spoke it; rather, Phaedrus drugged him and spoke it through his mouth, in a novel twist on the theme of ventriloquism. Still, by way of recantation, Socrates decides to offer a second speech, honoring Eros and praising the lover instead of the nonlover. This time he speaks with head uncovered. The contrasts between the two speeches are highly significant and are thematized in such a way as to force the conclusion that the second is preferable on all counts, just as fresh water is preferable to brine:

children above all, but also the lower classes-who are unable to appreciate the subdeties of philosophical analysis and argumentation but still need to be convinced of certain propositions if they are to contribute to d1e good of the state (or, at a minimum, to pose no dangers to it). Once again, myths will do the trick. 5 1 In both d1ese instances, mythoi serve as prime instruments of indoctrination, which the state-as Critias suggested, for all that he preferred the term logoi-uses for its own purposes. This theme is developed with particular clarity in Plato's discussion of the pedagogic practices in his ideal city.

First Speech Head covered Nonlover Phaed rus False Impious affront Inspired Ignorant Salt water Poetry (and rhetoric)

Second Speech H ead uncovered Lover Socrates True Pious praise Reasoned Knowledgeable Fresh water Philosophy

mythos

logos

In content, the second speech culminates in a dazzling discussion of the soul's ascent to the realm of pure ideas. "No poet yet has ever sung about this realm as it deserves, nor will one ever do so," Socrates states, before asserting that he himself"must venture to speak the truth, especially when speaking about things that are true." 49 Again the same contrasts emerge, and much of the discussion serves to establish a (pseudo )cosmological and ontological basis for the philosopher's superiority to the poet, which we will consider more fully in chapter 7. Although Plato entertains the idea of banishing poets altogether from his utopian order he ultimately decides otheLwise, recognizing that poets and the myths they tell can be of great value provided they remain firmly subordinated to the philosopher-kings. Their value lies in two areas. First, there are certain topics-the nature of the gods, for instance, or the soul's fate after death- on which it is virtually impossible to achieve the ki nd of certainty toward which philosophical inquiry aspires. H ere, where it cannot establish or communicate sure knowledge, the state is content to foster beliefs that are both probable and useful. For this lesser, but still vital, task, poets, poetry, and myths come in handy. 50 Second, there are audiences-

"What, then , ,;yjjl we do by way of education?" " It is difficult to find somed1ing better dun d1at which was discovered long ago." "That is, I suppose, gymnastics for the body and music for the soul." "It is." "And don't we begin by educating in music fh·st, rather than gymnastics?" "Of course." "And you would place logoi under music, wouldn't you?" "I would." "And d1ere are two forms of logoi: one true, and d1e other false?" "Yes." "And one must educate wid1 both of d1em, first with the false ones?" "I don't understand," he said. "You don't Lmderstand d1at at first we tell mythoi to children and these, on the whole, are false, but still d1ey have some truth in them?" "So we use mythoi for small children, before gymnastics." "It is so." " This is what I said: one must partake of music before gymnastics." "Right," he said. "Don't you know d1at the beginning of any task is the most important part, especially for someone young and tender? For d1en one can best shape and impress d1e model o ne would like to be imprinted on dut person." "Exacdy." "Now, will we stand lighdy by and let the child ren listen to any

40

41

Chapm· 11110

From H omer tln·ottgh Plato

chance mythoi fab ricated by any chance people, so that their souls take up opinions that are opposite to those we intend them to have when they come to maturity?" " By no means will we do so." "Above all , it seems to us that one must supervise the makersof-mythoi, and one must approve that which is good in their compositions, and condemn that which is not. And those which are approved , we will persuade nurses and mothers to recount them to their children , and to shape their souls with these mythoi, even more powerfully than they shape their bodies with their hands. But one must reject most of the stories they now recount." 5 2

perspectives, and positio ns. None of tl1ese are dismissible, none are pure, and none ho ld a monopoly on t.rutl1 . Indeed, tl1e protestations of the principals notwithstanding, th e central issue witl1 which they grapple is not trutll per se but discursive authority. T his question can be phrased in absu·act and impersonal fashion: What kind of speech will command tl1e respect and attention of otl1ers? Poetry (and if so, epic, lyric, sympotic, or tragic) or prose (legal, aphoristic, rhetorical, etc.)? Spoken or written? Narrative or propositional argumentation (and if the latter, analytic, dialectic, eristic, or sophistic)? Traditional or novel ? T hat which claims divi ne inspiration (o racles, seers, and mysteries, as well as poets ) o r that backed by the power of the state? More pointed is the personal form o f this question, which is usually unacknowledged but always present. Whose speech will command respect and attentio n? The stakes in this stru ggle are high and amount to nothing less than discursive and ideological hegemony. In the period we have considered, one hegemon was displaced and another, installed largely as a result of Plato's polemic. By the time he finished, few were will ing to take mytl1 seriously. It is not unti l many centuries later that serious challenges to his views would reemerge.

Poets here arc reduced to servants of the state, as their myths are subjected to the scru tiny and censorship of philosopher-kings. No myths will be permitted that show the gods doing anything evil , and those in which the wicked prosper and the just suA-e r are also o ut.53 On the other hand, myths that encourage children to become disciplined, self-controlled, pious, courageous, and wise-that is, ideal servants of the state - will all be encouraged .54 Not just encouraged, however. Plato clearly differentiates the roles of poets and philosopher-kings: the latter know what kind of myths need to be made but do not undertake the menial task of making them themselves. Rather, they prefer to instruct poets in what is to be done and to persuade th em of the wisdom of their views. Failing that, they will command or compel them to produce the stories they and their state require. 55 In the network of communicative relations envisioned by Plato, poets - who understood themselves to mediate betvveen gods and humanswere significantly repositioned. T he space he assigned to them is tl1at which lies between tl1e state and its lowliest subjects, where they craft mythoi, at the di rection of philosopher-kings, for mothers and nurses to pass on to their charges. And in this system, mythoi were not o nly revised but also radically revalorized . What otl1ers had taken to be primordial revelations or undeniable truths now were treated as state propaganda, best suited for children and those incapable of adopting tl1e discourse and practice of the ruHng elite, within an emergent regime of truth that called (and calls) itself " philosophy."

VII I have tried to rcnarrate a story tl1at has often been told. My goal has been to transform a simple, linear plot of development and progress (" from mythos to logos") into one that recogni zes the importance of multiple actors, 42

43

II

A Modern History of Myth

-3

The History of Myth from the Renaissance to the Second World War

I In this overly ambitious chapter, I wiiJ try to show why and how the cate-

gory of myth was recuperated at the end of the eighteenth century, then came to be theorized within a discourse of Ulllz, and ultimately became thoroughly en tangled with attempts to contrast Aryans and Semites. The story is long and complex, bu t not withou t interest or-unfortunatelyconsiderable historic importance. From the ti me of Plato through the Renaissance, few held the category of myth or the stories so designated in very high regard. Some strained attempts were made to rehabili tate the genre by treating myths either as allegorical recodings of phiJosophical truths or as accounts of ancient history deformed beyond recognition. But for the most part, the mythic narratives of antiquity lost their authoritative status, becoming folktales, fairytales, local legends and fables while also supplying a stock repertoire of incidental motifs that could be used for entertainment and artistic adornment. 1 When they bothered to engage these materials at all, the later Greeks and Romans showed condescension toward the amusing, but unserious, tales they designated mythoi andfabulae, while Christians set th em in stark opposition to the one story they judged authoritative, but emphatically nonmythic: that of the Bible and, above all, Christ's passion . The recovery of ancient texts during the Renaissance made for changes, however, some of them unexpected. Not only did Greco-Roman stories become available and once more provide an alternative to the master narrative of the church, but one particular text offered a third option. This was Tacitus's Germania, first made public in 1457 by Aeneas Silvius Piccolo47

Chapter 11Jree

From tbe Rmaismncc to tbe Second Wodd. Wm·

mi ni (14 05-64), who had recently acquired tl1e fi rst ma nuscript of tl1 is text after seeking it for years. Responding to complaints lodged against the papacy by champio ns of the Holy Roman Em pil'e and tl1e German nation, Piccolomini (who would himself be named Pope Pius II in the following year) quoted fro m tl1e Tacitean text.2 H is attention, however, was ratl1er selectively focused on descriptions of Germans as rude barbar ians, whose material and cultural existence was severely impoverished (chaps. 16 and 26 ). From tl1is, he argued tl1at German knowledge of all higher tl1i ngs had come tlwough tl1e influence of th e church, wherefore an appropriately grateful German empire o ught submit to the Roman pontiff. Others responded witl1 different readings as tl1e text became more widely available. Partisans oftl1e empire quickly found and em phasized passages in tl1e Germania that idealized their ancestors. Especially useful were chapters 1-8 and 13-14, which dwelt o n the Germans' sense of honor and integrity, tl1eir physical prowess, courage, and beauty, tl1eir attachment to land, family, an d leaders, and which related tl1ese qualities to the Germans' autochthony, defense of tbeir liberty against Rome, and tl1eir lack of intermixture witl1 other peoples. T he enthusiasm with which tl1e peoples of normern Europe received tl1e Tacitean text is a historic fact of signal importance. Some centuries later, no less a figm e man Alexander von H umboldt tl1ought tl1e recovery of Tacitus commensurate with Columbus's d iscovery of America. 3 While tl1e latter opened a new world to tl1e west, tile fo rmer did li ke service fo r tl1e ancient world o ftl1e nortll, from which he and his countrymen descended. In effect, Tacitus broke tl1e Mediterranean monopoly on antiq uity, giving Germans, Scandinavians, Dutch, and Anglo-Saxons tl1eir first taste of tl1e prestige derived from a deep and noble past. T he cultural fact of the Tacitean text may have helped bolster tl1e nortllerners' pride, but it stimulated ratl1er tl1an sated tl1eir desire for an ancient history oftlleir own. The combination of new hopes and old lo nging made fo r burgeoning demand, and ingenious producers rushed to serve the emergent market . Among the most resourceful was Annius of Viterbo (Giovanni Nanni ), who in 1512 published what he claimed was a rediscovered manuscript of Berosus, tl1e preeminent Babylonian historian.4 Using tlus persona, he described a noble German culture tl1at from time immemorial flourished betvveen the Rhine and tl1e D anube, where it was fou nded by Tuyscon, son of Noah. Witllin tllis figu re's construction, however, some revealing contradictio ns are contained .

The Book of Genesis knows no Tuyscon. Ratl1er, this distinctly nonbiblica.l hero is inserted into Noah's lineage to capture tl1e authority ofHoly Scri pture and to enable Tuyscon's descendants to claim equal antiq uity and dignity to the heirs of Shem, H am, and Japhet. But where Semites and Hamites are associated with tile soutll, Tuyscon replaces Japhetl1 as the primordial ancestor of the nortl1ern peoples, tile fatl1er of Germans and Sannatians, who defi ne Europe's nortl1western and nortl1eastern outskirts, respectively. T he source for An nius's Tuyscon is a passage from Tacitus describing the Germa ns' autochtl1onous ancestor: "They celebrate in ancient songs, Jllhich are thei1' only means of remembrance or rec01-ding the past, an eartl1born god, Tuisco, and his son Man nus, as the origin of their people and weir founde rs." 5 T he whole point of Annius's forgery, however, was to show tl1at tl1e Germans were not just older than tl1e ancie nt peoples of the Mediterranean but (at least) tl1ei r cultural equals, as well. Clearly, tl1ey could not have been illiterate, as Tacitus had it. And so tl1e eartl1-born god Tuyscon became a culture hero on tl1e Greco-Roman model: the inve ntor of poetry, laws, and also writing. This established , Annius cou ld bring tl1e "commentar y" to his fo rged text arou nd to tl1e conclusion his aud ience longed to hear: "Therefore, the begin ning of phi losophy was from the Barbarians, and not from tl1e Greeks." 6

Part oftl1e appeal exerted by An nius's " Berosus" came fro m tl1e claim tl1at this "Babylonian" text owed nothing-not even its language-to Greeks, Romans, or Hebrews. In tl1is regard, it was an improvement on Tacitus's Latin etlmography, but still less satisfying tllan an ancient text in a northern vernacular would be. T he hunger for such a textual object and cultural fetish would wai t until tl1e 1640s, when it gained par tial satisfaction in Wulfila's Gothic translation of tl1e New Testament and more still with the first manuscri pts of the Old Norse Eddas.7 By tl1at time, however, the Germanic principalities had suffered tile horrors of tile T hirty Years' War, and attitudes toward myth had become less open, given Protestant insistence on tlle unique status of tl1e Bible and tile rad ical inferio rity of all otl1er texts. If respect fo r me Bible dampened interest in mytl1 duri ng tl1is period, philosophes of tl1e Enlightenment soon showed renewed imerest of a negative sort, find ing criticism of myth, Like that of"superstition," a convenient vehicle for veiled cri tiq ues of Bible and chu rch. Following lines opened up

48

49

II

Chapter Three

F1·mn the R..mnissa1tce to the

Scco~td

World

Wn~·

by Xenophanes and Plato, they made irrationality the hallmark of myth and constituted philosophy- rather than the Christian lurygrna-as tl1e antidote tor mythic discourse. By implication, Clu·istianity could appear as a more recent, powerful, and dangerous instance of irrational myth. 8 This is the background against which a radically different construction of mytl1 emerged with the romantics, whose attitude was decidedly more celebratory than critical. Vico's Scienza Nuova (17 15) was a harbinger of this shift, but, ahead of its time, it fo und little audience.9 More immediately important was Paul Hemi Mallet's six-volume Introduction al)histoire dtt Danernarc ( 1755-56 ), which offered tl1e first translations of mytl1s from the Eddas as documents of foundational import for all Europe. 10 This prompted considerable excitement. Translations into tl1e predictable languages followed swiftly: Danish (1756), German (1765), and English (1770). Entl1Usiastic readers included Lessing, Goetl1e, Gibbon, and Voltaire. Mallet himself displayed an ambiguous, even contradictory attitude toward the Norse myths. On the one hand , he considered tl1em tl1e rude, violent, and gloomy products of a barbarous society, but he also tl1ought tl1em transparent to an earlier, purer era, in which he perceived (or ratl1er projected) his own ideals and tl1ose of his age. This Golden Era, which he wrote about as a student-cum-maker-of-mytl1s, featmed a moral and rational religion reminiscent of deism, a strong sense of honor, and a love of freedom, which he deemed the nortl1 's most enduring contributions to civilization.'' If Mallet's writings were popular, those ofJames Macpherson (1736 96) >vere an absolute sensation. 12 Between 1760 and 1763, he published three volumes of poetry attributed to Ossian, a blind bard oftl1e tl1ird century. In dark, brooding tones, tl1ese recounted the adventures ofFingal, King of Morven, while also offering picturesque vignettes ofilie unspoiled landscape and melancholy reflections on life, death, and the transience of tlungs. Macpherson presented his work as translations of o bscure Gaelic manuscripts and still-living oral traditions oftl1e Scottish Highlands. Initial reactions were wildly entl1usiastic, and eminent critics hailed Ossian as tl1e equal-or even superior- of H omer and Shakespeare. Still, a few perceptive souls, Samuel Johnson among tl1em, fow1d Ossian and Fingal too good to be true, and decades of controversy followed. Only after Macpherson's death in 1796, when 11is papers were inspected, did it become fully clear that his writings and claims were fraudulent. Even so, ilie mar1ia tl1ey set off was both consequential and revealing, for Macpherson played a major role in tl1e formation of romantic sensibilities. He is best un-

derstood, perhaps, not as tl1e translator or creator of Ossian, but as tl1e transcriber ofl1is audience's desires. In tl1eir involvement witl1 his texts, readers modeled ilieir relation to tl1e ideal past of tl1eir own collective imaginary. Like romar1ticism itself, tl1e Ossian phenomenon is intimately connected to the context of nascent nationalism . Macpherson's readers experienced themselves as long-deprived hei rs, who, having finall y rediscovered tl1eir rightful heritage, could command the respect of tl10se who had previously bullied, exploited, and dismissed iliem. In ilie Ossia.t1ic texts, some heard the newly awakened voice of tl1e Scots, while otl1ers made tl1e ancient bard out to be Gaelic, Celtic, or noriliern in general (a move tl1at was easy, since Celtic and Germanic lar1guages had not yet been differentiated). Macpherson's success stimulated tl1ose of other nations to seek ilieir own lost m)rths, epics, ar1d legends, and tl1e Nibelungenlied, Chanson de Roland) and Kalevala are among tl1e results. Even when Ossia.t1 was tl1oroughly discredited, tl1e attitudes it helped shape remained unshaken. Mytl1ic poetry, which the Enligh tenment disparaged as a form of primitive irrational ity, had been re theorized under tl1e signs of autl1enticity, tradition, and national identity.

If tl1e materials published by Mallet ar1d Macpherson stimulated nationalist interests, they also prompted tl1eoretical analyses tl1at made ar1eient vernacular languages and literatures-especially poetry and mytl1- a prime basis of national identity. Among the keenest readers ofboili these authors was Johann Georg Hamarm (1730-88), styled "tl1e Magus oftl1e North" by his contemporaries.l 3 A forerunner of romar1ticism and implacable opponent of tl1e Enlightenment's core values, Hamann had an intense interest in tl1e nature of language. As a mystic, he was fascinated by tl1e implications ofJohn 1.1: "In ilie beginning was the word [logos]," wl1ich he took to signal language as an inseparable part of the human condition and God as tl1e creator oflanguage. As a member of the Deutsche Gesellschaft in Kon igsberg, he was also a champion of Germru1, favored by ilie n1iddle classes ar1d lower nobility, over against French, used by tl1e Prussian royal court. Finally, as one who knew a goodly number oflanguagesGreek, Latin, H ebrew, French, English, Italian, Portuguese, Lettish, and even some Arabie-H amann was sensitive to tl1e differences among tl1em in diction, prosody, style, and structure. Each lar1guage bore tl1e 11istory of tl1e people who spoke it, he argued, and shaped tl1eir outlook on ilie world in general.

50

51

III

Chapter Three

From the Renaissat1ce to the Secotut World War

Hamann put language at the center of his reflections- simultaneously theological, philosophical, literary, and cultural-historical- such that the linguistic exerted maximal pressure against the Enlightenment model of the rational. Thus, he argued thatlanguage encompasses reason, since reasoning is conducted in language, and this permitted him a number of conclusions and rhetorical sallies. Where Enlightenment philosophes construed reason as abstract and universal, he insisted that language was concrete, specific, and particular: there could no more be a universal reason than there could be a universal language . Where they championed reason as the highest of human accomplishments, he characterized language as a gift of God and therefore its superior. And where their favorite narrative was one of progress from ignorance and savagery to civilization, he valorized the primordial past, citing Ossian, the Eddas, and the Hebrew Bible to assert that language originally took the sublime form of poetry and song, far preferable to the degraded prose of modernity. Hamann was a Pietist pastor, and part of his purpose was to defend religion against secularizing, anticlerical attacks. Beyond this, he was also defending German sensibilities against intellectu al currents imported from France. Certainly his readership and circle of acquaintances consisted chiefly of Germans and included Goethe, Kant (whom he attacked but badly misunderstood), Moses Mendelssohn, and Friedrich Jacobi. His influence was strongest, however, on another Pietist pastor and hero of early romanticism: Johann Gottfried Herder (1744 - 1803), who studied with Kant and Hamann in Konigsberg and remained devoted to the latter. 14 One of the broadest- if hardly the deepest or most original- minds of his era, Herder wove themes from Hamann, Mallet, Macpherson, and others into a novel, far-reaching, and potent synthesis, in which myth held a position of considerable importance. Although many of these ideas figure in his writings from 1770 onward, 15 Herder's system acquired its fullest shape in the four-volume Ideen zur Philosophic der Geschichte der Menschheit (1784-91), 16 which begins by asserting the unity of mankind and rejecting attempts to subcategorize humanity by race or level of civilization, since people were created by God, one and indivisible. 17 IfHerder started with the unity of the species, however, he quickly acknowledged multiplicity, arguing for the difference, but equal dignity, of all the world's VOlker. He was among the first to develop a view of cultural relativism , in which a tension remains unresolved between the one and the many. This tension is thematized in his grandest historical narrative, where unity appears as the original state created by God , while diversity manifests itself in

subsequent linguistic, geographic, and cul tural separations, all of which are the results of human actions. The familiar (and satisfying) shape ofrl1is narrative is the Fall from paradise, complete wit11 a Tower ofBabeJ.IS Herder's sympathies did not lie exclusively wirl1 unity, however. Rather, he stressed rl1e integrity and importance of each Wllk, a term whose fuJI denotative and aftective significance is lost in its lame English equivalents . . " or " nation . ") . I n hi s v1ew, . th ree 1actors c. (e.g. , " fio lk ," " peopI e," " e t11111Clty, contribute to rl1e formation of Volker. First is variety in rl1e climates t11ey inhabit. Following Hippocrates, he understood differences in heat and cold, for example, to have powerful effects not only on peoples' dispositions and customs but also on their bodies . 19 As they live in a region over long peri ods of time, rl1eir features are brought into close correlation wirl1 those of the landscape, for rl1ey both bear rl1e imprint of the same climate.2o Endogamic marriages and rl1e Lamarckian inheritance of acquired characteristics reinforce these distinguishing traits in later generations.21 A second formative factor is language, which reflects a Volk's environs and historic experience and structures rl1eir rl1ought and social relations. Finally, t11ere is Nationalbildung, rl1e development process through which groups acquire rl1eir cultural identity and individuals acquire identity as members of t11ese groups. Herder spoke of myths sparingly in the Ideen, but wirl1 real precision, and he assigned rl1em a role of cardjnal importance. A crucial resource for collective identity, myths are the linguistic form rl1at mediates betvveen climate and Nationalbildung. Thus, if rl1e environment impresses itself directly o n the bodies of a Volk, it impresses itself on their customs and mores rl1rough rl1e medium of myrl1s, which Volker use to reflect on t11eir surroundings and history and to transmit ancestral traditions from one generation to anorl1er. Acutely conservative, myrl1s convey historic, cultural, and practical knowledge while also guarding a Wllk's distinctive values-and errors-against forgetfulness and change.

52

Compare rl1e Greenlandic myrl1ology wirl1 rl1e Indian, t11e Lapp wirl1 rl1e Japan ese, rl1e Peruvian with the Negro: a complete geography of the poetic soul . If a Brahmin had rl1e Icelandic Voluspa read and explained to him, he could hardly get a single idea from it, and the Icelander would fu1d the Veda equally foreign. All nations are so deeply imprinted wirl1 their mode of conceptualization because it is rl1eir own, connected to rl1eir own eart11 and sky, sprouted from their own way of life, inherited from rl1eir fathers and ancestors. That which most amazes a foreigner, rl1ey believe 53

Chapter Th1·ee

Fnnn the Renaissance to the Second World War

they grasp most clearly: the things he laughs at, they take most seriously. The Indians say that a man's fate is written on his brain, the fine lines of which represent the unreadable letters of the Book of Destiny. Often, the most arbitrary national concepts and beliefs are such brain -pictures [i.e., pictures brains draw on themselves]: interwoven lines offantasy with the strongest connections to body and soul. Whence is this? H ave all these tribes of men invented thei1· own mythology so that they love it as their own property! Not at all. They didn't invent it, they inherited it. Had they made it through their own process of reflection, then through that same process of reflection they might have led it from a worse state to a better o ne. But that has not been the case. 22

Herder developed his tl1eory of Asia as tl1e original homeland and site of human unity in the second volume of his Ideen, which appeared in 1785. One year later, the English Orientalist Sir William Jones (1746-94) delivered tl1e famous lecture in which he posited tl1e common origin of the languages to which otl1ers would later give tl1e names "Aryan," "Indogermanisch," and "Indo-European." After anotl1er tl1ree years,.Jones set tl1e Urheimat of tl1at linguistic commwlity also in central Asia. The coincidence is not tl1e result of influence eitl1er scholar exerted on the otl1er, but of common preconceptions based on tl1eir reading of tl1e Bible. Chapter 4 takes up the genealogy of]ones's "discovery." At present, I would si mply

note t11at H erder's writings helped prepare German opinion for Jones's theories and conditioned tl1eir reception. Herder did not lay tl1e groundwork singlehandedly, however. From the 1760s onward, German nationalists and (pre-, tl1en early) romantics viewed language and literature as key resources for tl1e construction of national identity. T hese impulses led them to Ossian, tl1e Old Norse Eddas and Sagas, Old H igh German lays like the Nibelungenlied, and to collections offolksongs and Mii1'chen. They looked to tl1ese materials much as earlier generations looked to Tacitus and "Berosus," understanding tl1em as the basis fo r cultural unity in the present and, with luck, for tl1e realization of political unity in the near future. (The latter need would be experienced witl1 much greater urgency in the course of tl1e Napoleonic Wars.) 2 5 In Herder's writings, German patriots found a tl1eoretical system that got beyond tl1eir atomized political structures and let tl1em imagine tl1emselves a solidary, homogeneous Volle, as defined by their common language, myths, history, physiognomy, climate, and landscape. The idea of Asian origins, mough part of Herder's master narrative, was tl1e part that most effaced distinctive national character in favor of a biblically based vision of human uruty. As such , it seemingly ofFered little to tl1e nationalist project. Jones's tl1eory, in contrast, posited Asian origins not for all mankind, but for one large and important language fami ly, of \vhich German was a part. Crossing Jones witl1 Herder, and stressing the latter's identification of ViJlker with languages, it was tlms possible to associate the Aryan U1'sprache with a corresponding (Ur)volk and to imagine a process whereby prehistoric bands of this community migrated fi·om tl1eir Asian (Ur)heimat and conquered the world fro m India to Iceland. Good Herderians would understand that in the process of migration, these bands acquired distinctive national cultures as their travels took them into new environments, reshaping tl1eir languages, poetry, customs, and bodies in the process. Moreover, they would know tl1at in tl1eir mytl1s these people preserved memories of their origins and ancient VOlkerJVanderungen. Reading Jones with tl1ese preconceptions and interests, Germans rapidly came to see tl1emselves as a Volk witl1 a much deeper, more glorious, and more heroic past than anyone previously dared to imagine. Germans were relieved of the need to compete witl1 Greeks and Romans, for they now discovered themselves part of the same primordial group. 26 Since India was assumed to be tl1e oldest member of tl1at group, interest in Sanskrit burgeoned, as did the prestige of all tl1ings ancient and Indic, particularly after

54

55

Myths are thus a discourse of differentiation: the distinctive stories Viilker develop as they separate fi·om one another, tlu·ough which they recall and reproduce their distinctive features. As such, mytl1s are ambiguous in nature, being part of tl1e fall from primordial human unity but also a treasured possession of each VOlk, without which its identity and continuity would be quite impossible. This ambiguity suggests two interpretive options for scholars. On tl1e one hand, it is possible to read myths witl1 an interest in diversity, showing how idiosyncratic narrative details correspond to the values, character, climate and experience distinctive of tl1e Volle who tell them. Alternatively, one can focus on issues of unity by using the evidence of myths to trace tl1e world's ViJlker back to their place of common origin. 23 Herder devoted book 10 of tl1e Idem to tllis latter project, con cluding tl1at the primordial ground of human unity and tl1e site of its original creation was to be found in central Asia.24

IV

Chaptel' 711l'Ce

From the l~maissance to the Second World Wa,.

publication of Friedrich Schlegel's Uber die Sprache ttnd Weisheit der Indict' (1808), which made the case for India as the Aryan homeland. 27 At the same time, Israel- whose language lay outside the "Aryan" family- was constituted as the radical other, following Herder's argument that the Jews in diaspora were a Volll radically detached from their homcland. 28 In danger oflosing their own collective identity, they posed a danger to the ViJllzer in whose lands they settled. Consider tl1e way Herder closed his discussion of tl1e Jews: "God's Wltk, to whom Heaven itself once gave their Vaterland, for millennia- indeed, almost since tl1eir begimung- have been a parasitical plant on the tnm ks of other nations; a race of crafty brokers throughout almost the whole World, who, in spite of all oppression, have nowhere longed for thei r own honor and dwelling, nowhere longed for a Vatertand of their own." 29 Others have shown how the union of Herderian theory and Aryan interests influenced tl1ought about race, language, and cultu re. 30 At present, my concern is to see how discussions of myth fit in to tl1is picture.3 1 Among tl1e clearest cases is tl1at ofJacob (1785- 1863) and Wilhelm (1786 - 1859) Grimm, whose monumental researches showed a Herderian interest in language and myth as the media that defined the German Wlllz, and with which the Wlllz could be mobilized as a nation. Such motives led Jacob to study plUlology with Franz Bopp (1791- 1867) and to compile his Deutsche Gramrnatill ( 1819- 37), which first explained tl1e relation of German to the otl1er Aryan languages. For his part, Wilhelm worked on Detttsche Sagm (1816 - 18), and togetl1er they undertook a critical edition of the Edda (1815), a massive dictionary of the German language (1854), and their famous collection of Kinder- tmd Hattsmanhm ( 1812 - 15). 32 In addition, Jacob devoted himself to the first encyclopedic compendium ofGerma1uc myth, Deutsche Mythologie (1835), a four-volu me work that remained tl1e standard well into the twentietl1 century. 33 Rigoro us and tl1orough to tl1e point of pedantry, it includes chapters devoted to all tl1e pagan gods, where etymological an alysis served to connect tl1em to other Indo -European deities. Alongside this project was another, pursued most aggressively in discussions of "Woods," "Springs," "Mountains," and tl1e like, where Grimm connected tl1e old myths with specific features oftl1e German landscape, following Herder's view that environment shapes tl1e content of myths and together tl1ey shape tl1e nature of a Volll. Adopti ng a position that must have scandalized conventional religious sensibilities, Grimm went on to argue that conversion to Clu·istianity shattered tl1e nexus of land-mytl1-and-Volll. Indigeno us traditions yielded un-

der pressure to foreig n imports, with consequent disruption of the people's relation not only to their past but also to their native soil. 34 Gri mm's normally dry diction turned passionate in describing tl1is process. His research can be understood, inter alia, as an attempt to reverse it by recovering and making familiar once more all tl1e traditions C h ristianity sought to erase.

Grimm was greatly admired by Richard Wagner (181 3- 83 ), who also sought to rec01mect mytl1 and Wltll, albeit through art rather man scholarship. 35 T his ambition is spelled o ut in the theoretical essays he wrote between 1849 and 1851 in Paris, where he took refuge after tl1e fajled Dresden revol ution of 1848. Most important is " The Artwork of the Future" (1849), where he gave the fullest explication of his aesthetic, culn1 ral, and political theories and tried to develop a class-conscious, but still vijt/lisch, sensibility. 36 T hus, in addition to the conventional construction of the Wltk as a pleniwde marked by all tl1ose tl1ings it shares (land , language, history, mytlls, music, folksongs, e.g. ), Wagner argued tl1at in the modern era it was also marked by an absence, fo r a Votll was now defined by the needs and wa nts of its people. T hose who lack such needs are consequently estranged fi·om the Wltll and constitute themselves as its enemy. Wagner went on to describe such people of "luxu ry" as capricious and egoistic, adopting the latter term from some anti-Semitic excurses of Ludwig Feuerbach (1804 - 72), whom he greatly admired in those years and to whom he dedi cated this essay. 37 As its title suggests, Feuerbach's most important work, The Essence of Christianity ( 1841 ), offers a critical analysis of Ch1·istianity from tl1e viewpoint of the Hegelian left. One chapter stands out, however, as dealing with religions other than C hristiani ty: chapter 11, "The Significance of tl1e Creation in Judaism." 38 Here, Feuerbach developed a sharp structural contrast benveen Jewish and Greek mentalities and traced this to tl1eir difierent myths of creation. Thus, where Jewish scripture had God create nature as an object for man's use, tl1e Greeks identified nature witl1 the gods, and contemplated botl1 together witl1 reverence. As a consequence of these foundati onal assumptions, tl1e Greeks had aestl1etic and theoretic sensibilities tl1at led them to develop art and science. The Jews, on tl1e other ha nd, became a practical and uti litarian people, exploitative of nature and interested only in profiting from it. T he key term in Feuerbach's whole discussion, moreover, is "egoism," which he used no fewer than twentyone times, always to characterize tl1e Jews. T he fo llowing passage is typical.

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v

Cbnpter 17n·cc

Fl·om tbc R m nissnucc to the Secour( World War

The Jews have maintained their peculiarity to this day. T heir principle, their God, is the most practical principle in the world,namely, egoism ; and moreover egoism in the form of religio n. Egoism is the God who will not let his servants come to shame. Egoism is essentially monotheistic, for it has only one, only self, as its end . Egoism strengthens cohesion, concentrates man on himself, gives him a consistent principle of life; but it makes him theo retically narrow, because indifterent to all which does not relate to the well -being of self. Hence science, like art, arises only out of polytheism, for polytheism is the frank, open, unenvying sense of all that is beautiful and good witho ut distinction, the sense of the world, of the universe. The Greeks looked abroad into the wide world that they might extend their sphere of vision .... The polytheistic sentiment, I repeat, is the foundation of science and art. 39

T hese ideas gai n additional significance within the broader argument of ".Artwork of the F uwre," where Wagner connected the ills of modernity with a process of cultural decadence. I n a grand historic narrative, the theoretical assumptions of which derived from Herder, he explained VOlker as initially kinship-based communities that preserved knowledge of their lincage and homeland in sagas and ritual feas ts.42 Later, as tribes became nations, they developed grander and more effective myths and rituals, through which they inspired and integrated a larger, more diffuse population . The most brillian t example of th is was Greek tragedy, where myths were given grand, synaesthenic production , with the fu ll community in attendance. 43 After this culminating mo ment, however, the capacity for such art became attenuated, especially in modernity, where luxury and egoism had thoroughly corrupted cultural life. The solution Wagner proclaimed with prophetic and messianic tervor was restoration of an art like th at of ancient Greece: a total work of art ( Gesamtktmstlllerk ) that would integrate music, poetry, dance, theatrical spectacle, the plastic arts, and archi tectu re-an art, moreover, that would shatter all egoism, being itself the voice and product of the Volll: "If we have finally proved that the Vollt must of necessity be the Artist of the future, we must be prepared to see the intellectual egoism of the artists of the Present break forth in contemptuous amazement at the discovery. They forget completely that in the days of national blood-brotherhood, which preceded the epoch when the absolute Egoism of the individual was elevated to a religion,-the days which our historians betoken as those o f myth and fable,- the Volle, in truth, was already the only poet, the only artist . .. ." 44

In his reading ofFeuerbach, Wagner seized upon the theme of egoism and used it in "The Artwork of the F utu re" as a coded reference . In making the enemies of the Vollt not just bourgeois oppressors, but bourgeois "egoists," he was able to identify them as Jews. I f his anti-Semitism remained veiled in this essay, such was hardly the case in another piece of the same period that he published pseudonymo usly in an unsuccessful attempt to shield himself agai nst the scandal it occasioned . Tllis was " Judaism and Music" (1850), where he advanced th ree salient arguments.40 The first, which comes fro m the most vulgar forms of anti-Semitism , casts the Jew as indelibly, physicall y other, not only different but viscerally repugnant in his physiognomy. The second has H erderian roots and proceeds fro m the observation that Jews had no language of their own, Yiddish being a debased and bastardized form of German. To others, this lack of a language suggested that the Jews (who also lacked a homeland ) were not a proper Vollt, but given his own preoccupations, Wagner moved the analysis in a novel direction. Mai ntai ni ng that song is both the highest form of speech and the basis of all music, he went on to argue that Jews could create no mu sic or poetry, since a language of one's own is a precondition for eith er. Third , he maintained that the o nly relation Jews could possibly have with music was in the capacity of consumers. Given the excess wealth they have piled up through the practice of usury, they were now able to buy the mu sical creations of others as a luxury for themselves. In so doing, they threatened to dominate the musical and cultu ra l world while once more revealing themselves to be alien, even antithetical to the volk.41

58

VI As something of an appendix to "The Artwork of the Future," Wagner o ffered an example of a myth that might serve as inspiration for the German Vollt in its time of need: the tale of Wieland the Smith, a worker enslaved by a king, who threw off his chains, made his escape, and wrought terrible revenge on his enemy. 45 Although he in itiall y intended to base a Gesamtlmnstwerlt on this myth, Wagner's enthusiasm for the project cooled, along with his zeal fo r political revolution . Accordingly, he turned his attention to the one other myth that, like Wieland , is demonstrably pan-Germanic, being attested in Old Norse, Anglo-Saxon, and continental sources. T his is the story of Siegfi·ied (or Sigurd), dragon-slaying hero of the Volsung lineage. Wagner worked on these materials over the next thirty years, grad-

59

Chapter Th1·ec

Fnnn the RenaissMtce to the Second IM!rld War

ually expanding his plan s for a single Gesamtkunstwerll into the fo ur dramas of the Ring cycle, which he christened a Bi.thnenftstspiel, th at is, a festival brought to the stage. Not just any stage, moreover, but the theater complex at Bayreuth that he designed and built wi th royal patronage to serve as temple fo r the Ring's first performance ( 13-30 August 1876). Intended as ritual celebration more than theatrical performance, its purpose was to assemble, restore, and inspire the German Volll. The Ring itself is much too large to treat here. Its symbolic and ideological codes are so densely overdetermined as to demand book-length analysis. Instead , let me call attention to Wagner's early pseudo-academic treatment of the Siegfried myth, an incredible mi xture of research and fantasy written in the summer of 1848 and entitled "The Wibelungen." 4 6 T his name, which shows remarkable ingenuity and an utter lack of scholarly control, was tl1e " reconstruction" tl1rough which he sought to show a deep connection between the N ibelungs of legend and the historic Ghibelline party, who championed the German emperor against the Pope during tl1e Renaissance. 47 According to Wagner, these Wibelings were the royal clan of a Germanic Volk, who migrated fro m their o riginal horne in Asia, a place he identified with "the Indian Caucasus" at one po int and Troy at another.48 O ver the centuries, tl1is Votk preserved memories of its most distant past in the N ibelung saga, two symbolic clusters o f whjch Wagner took to have prime importance. First, fo llowing views populari zed by Grimm and otl1ers, Wagner took the battle of Siegfried and tl1e dragon to represent tl1e struggle o f day and night, heat and cold , good and bad, and he stressed tl1at in no ne o f these is there an y final victor: after overcoming his enemies, Siegfried like the sun-succumbs in the n ext phase of tl1eir encounter. T he hero's death, however, inspires his Volk to renew tl1e struggle, avenge his loss, and regain ascendance over the dark, evil other. 49 A second cluster of ideas is condensed in the symbol of the N ibelu ng hoard, whk h Wagner took to represent world dominion. Held by Caesar and Rome at o ne time, it passed to Charlemagne and the Franks, then became the bone o f contention amo ng many otl1ers: Merovingians, Carolingians, Saxons, Bavarians, Lambards, emperors, and popes. T hro ugh the Middle Ages, the power of German kings diminished . Yet even in times of weakness and decline, the Volk preserved knowledge o f its past and hope fo r its future in its myths and songs of the N ibelung treasure. From tl1ese, Wagner proposed -acting not as an egoistic talent (however great!) but on behalf of tl1e Votk-to produce the artwork of tl1e

future, comparable to Greek tragedy, in which the myths, which do not jusrspeall of treasure but are tl1emselves a treasured inheritance, a source of pride and strength, can assume spectacular fo rm and reenergize his people. AJthough he spoke primarily of the German Votk in his earlier writings, the fact that Wagner traced tl1eir origin to Asia in the Wibelungen essay shows that he understood them as part of the Aryan diaspora. This helped lay tl1e groundwork for the friendship he developed with Artur, Comte de Gobineau (18 16-82), author of the first systematic treatise on race, Essai srw t'inegalite des races humaines (1853-55), who m he first met in 1878 .5° At that ti me, tl1e count's racial tl1eories were relatively little known in Germany, bu t Wagner enthusiastically embraced tl1em wlule also making tl1em Jess pessimistic and more anti-Semitic. I n this mod ified fo rm, tl1ey were championed by the circle of those around him at Bayreuth, especially Ludwig Schemann (1852-1938), editor oftl1e Bayreuth Blatter, and Wagner's son-in -law, Houston Stewart Chamberlain (1855-1927), whose G1'undlagm der net-tnzeuntm ]ah1-hunderts ( 1899) was a fo undational text for the development of Nazi ideology. 51 In his later years, Wagner adopted Gobineau's vocabulary to summarize the views he had been advocating for decades, as in the letter of16 May 1881 he wrote Ludwig II ofBavaria, after the Ri ng's Berlin premiere, a text remarkable fo r its nux of self-promotion, racial arrogance, and pedantry. "[The Ri ng] is without doubt tl1e Aryan race's most characteristic work of art: no nation on eartl1 could be so clearly conscious of its o rigi ns and predisposition tl1an this one tribe from U pper Asia, a tri be which was the last to enter European culture and wluch until tl1at time had retained its purity better than all the other wlute races. One could \>veil feel hope on witnessing tl1e success of such a work in o ur midst!" 52

As is well known, early in his career Friedrich Nietzsche (1844-1900 ) was much influenced by Wagner, altl1ough he broke sharply with hi m after tl1e Ring's premiere at Bayreuth. 53 Still, it is in Nietzsche's earlier writings tl1at he most explicitly addressed the tl1eme of myth, taking Wagner's tl1eories as his point of deparn1 re. 54 Indeed , his fullest and most systematic discussion of the topic came in his first book, The Birth ofTragedy out of the Spirit ofMusic ( 1872 ), wluch was dedicated to Wagner and echoed the Meister's view of his own monumental importance. The composition al history of tl1is text is complex and indicates certain discontinuities. Nietzsche began work on it in 1870 , and in April of tl1e

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VII

Chapte~·

1h1·ec

next year, he read an early draft to Wagner that included a preface addressed to him by name and fifteen nu mbered sections. Although Wagner's response was mostly enthusiastic, he wan ted fu rther elaboration of some points, with more explicit attention to his own contributions, past and anticipated. O bligingly, N ietzsche added anotl1er ten sectio ns, which he later came to regret, as he made clear in Ecce H omo (1888) and tl1e "Attem pt at a Self-Cri ticism" he included in The Birth of Tragedy's second edition (1886 ).55 The discussion of myth falls largely in §§16 -25, the book's Wagnerian coda, but there are also important passages in the earlier portio n as well (especiall y §§9 - 10). Like Wagner (and many other Germans o f the ni neteenth cent ury), N ietzsche saw Greek tragedy as the highest achievement of European culture, after which the conti nent -and , with it, humani ty- fell into sustained decl ine. But beyond this commonplace, he developed an original and provocative analysis of the Greek miracle as having resul ted fi·01n a synthesis of diametrically opposed tendencies. Most important, of course, was the interaction between the spirits he first identified as the Apollinian and Dio nysian.56 Receiving only slightly less em phasis in his text, however, was the related (but not strictly parallel) opposition he drew benveen mytl1 and music. 57 Mytl1 he understood as an intensely concentrated image of tl1e wo rld and a necessary prerequisite of every religio n, a genre that wishes to be experienced as a uniq ue exam ple of universali ty and tru th. It is, moreover, best brought to life through tl1e vivifying, intoxicating medi um of music, and the result of tl1eir union is tragedy. 58 Beyond this rather formal analysis (tragedy= myth + music) Nietzsche offered a brief history of Greek tragedy, which is once again a myth of paradise lost and regained. In his accoun t, Greek tragedy came into being sho rtly after 480 B. C.E. (a point for which there is evidentiary support) and was the medium tl1rough which tl1e Greek Volk treated and healed itself after victory in tl1e Persian Wars consolidated tl1eir power and defined them as a people.59 N ietzsche wrote during tl1e Franco-Prussian War (18707 1), and his book appeared in the immediate wake of German unification. A few rhetorical gestures were enough to suggest the parallels that were obvious to his readers. Most significant is the passage tl1at concludes §23, which looked beyond tl1e war an d called for tl1e Volk's puri ficatio n and renewal. Altl1ough acknowledging that some saw the vio lent eli mination of all things fo reign as the fi rst step of tl1is process, N ietzsche himself emphasized reaffirmation of German art, poetry, myths, religion, and attachment to the homeland. 62

F1·om the Renrtissrmce to the Second Wol'ld Wm·

We thi nk so highly of tl1e pure and vigorous core of the German character that we dare to expect of it above all others tl1 is el imi nation of the fo rcibly implanted foreign elements, and consider it possible that tl1e German spirit will return to itself. Some may suppose tl1at this spir it must begin its fig ht with me elimination of everything Roman ic.60 I f so, they may recogni ze an external preparation and encourage ment in the victorio us fo rti tude and bloody glory o f tl1e last war; but one m ust still seek the inner necessity in the ambition to be always worthy of the subli me champions o n tl1.is way, Lu ther as well as o ur great artists and poets. But let him never believe tl1at he could fight similar fi ghts without t he gods of his house, or his mytl1ical home, witlwu t "bri nging back" all German thi ngs! 6 1 If Nietzsche commen ts on tl1e cu lture and politics of his own age while narrating tl1e origins of tragedy, he does m uch the same in speaking of its demise. For him, the villain of tl1at piece is none other than Socrates, whom he made responsible for the spirit o f science, as opposed to art; of corrosive inqu iry, as opposed to inspired verse; of rationality, as opposed to passion. And as tl1ese values associated with Socrates gained ascendancy toward the end of tl1e fift11 cenntry, tl1ey annihilated myth, with consequent damage to music.62 Tragedy came to an end , and other, inferior fo rms of culture took its place . As thematized by N ietzsche, the figure of Socrates is surely overdetermined and serves to conjme up a great man y qualities, tendencies, movements, and types of people, all of which he fo und o bjectionable. Rational ity, opti mism, and a one-sided Apollinianism are among them. Beyond tl1is, he associates Socratism with Alexand ria and Ro me, and implicitly witl1 tl1e French Enlightenment, which lio nized Socrates as one of its cardi nal saints and heroes. Some of tl1ese associations N ietzsche adopted from early ro manticism, particularly fi·om writings of Friedrich and August Schlegel; others were original to him.63 An1ong tl1e latter is a point that was somewhat submerged in The Birth ofTragedy, but much more salient in an earlier lecture Nietzsche gave at the Freie Akademische Gescllschaft in Basel ( l February 1870), wi th the ti tle "Socrates and Tragedy." Here he rehea rsed man y of tl1e arguments of his first book, but at one critical junctu re he went considerably fu rther when, echoing Wagner's obsessions, he identified Socratism with "the modern Jewish press," which he treated as the prime enemy of great tragic art in the present.64 T his went beyond tl1e bounds of propriety and pro mpted severe criticism . Even though Wagner supported 63

Chapte1· Th,·ee

F1•mn the Renaissance to the Sectmd Wodd Wm·

N ietzsche's argument, be wrote to his you ng ad mirer and counseled him to be more circumspect in his public pronouncements. 05 T he phrasing N ietzsche adopted in The Birth ofTragedy-m o re oblique and opaque, but eminently legible by the man to whom this work was dedicated-came in response to that suggestion.

original possession of the entire Aryan Viilke1'gemeinde and evidences tl1ei1· gift fo r tl1e profoundly tragic. Indeed, it does not seem improbable tl1at ti1is mytl1 has tl1e same characteristic significance for the Aryan character which the myth of tl1e Fall has for the Semitic character, and tl1at these two myths arc related to each other like brotl1er and sister. 72 After a brief summary of Kuhn's treatment of tl1e tl1eft-of-fire theme, he continued, focusing on moral significru1ce rather tl1an nature allegory: "The best and h ighest possession mankind can acquire is obtained by sacrilege and must be paid for with consequences that involve the whole flood of sufferings and sorrows with which the offended divinities have to affiict t11e nobly aspiring race of men. This is a harsh idea which, by the dignity it confers on sacrilege, contrasts strangely with the Setnitic mytl1 of the Fall in which curiosity, mendacious deception, suscepti bility to seduction, lust - in short, a series of pre-eminently feminine affects was considered the origin of evi l." 73 In this passage, N ietzsche used mythic narratives not just to stereotype peoples but also to erect a discriminatory structure of interlocking binary oppositions that conflated categories of race, gender, religion and morality. At a minimum, one can perceive the following set:

VIII Nietzsche's academic training was in classical philology, and as a result he was conversa nt with research in Indo -Eu ropean linguistics and myth. Among those whom he knew and read was Adalbert Kuhn (18 12-81), the most influ ential advocate of "comparative mytl1ology" in Germany, fo under of the Zeitschrift fi:ir vergleichende Sp7'achforschung) and a pioneer in tl1e study of Indo-European poetics. 66 Kuhn's chef d 'oeuvre was Die He7'ablumft des Fet-te1'stmd des Gdtte1't1'anks ( 1859), where he reconstructed an "Aryan" myth, the protagonist of which mediated heaven and eartl1 by stealing something from tl1e gods and delivering it to a needy humani ty. 67 Sometimes his booty was fire, the essential instrument of culture; sometimes, the d rink of immortality. Kuhn's best examples of the ambrosial variant came fro m India and Scandinavia. The fiery version was epitomi zed by tl1e Prometl1eus myth , whose deep Aryan origins he alleged on the basis of philological comparisons long since discarded as specio us. 6 H And in all instances he interpreted these myths as allegorized accounts of natu ral pheno mena, above all the violent thunderstorm, which brin gs life-sustaining water and fire down fro m heaven to eartl1 . N ietzsche had little interest in allegorizing interpretations of Greek myth , as evidenced by dismissive remarks he made in an early, unpublished manuscript.69 But he had a long-standing interest in Prometh eus, whom he - like Wagner, Goethe, and other romantics- viewed as a model of the creative, rebellious, impio us genius. 70 In November 1869, he borrowed Die Herablwnft des Feuers and a host of otl1er books on Indo-European mythology and linguistics from tl1e Basel library. Am ong these was Fr. G. Welcker's G1-iechische Gdtterlehre (1857-63), which expanded on Kulm's views to develop a contrast oftl1e "Aryan" Promctl1eus with the "Hebrew" myth of the Fall. 71 This is tl1c background to §9 of The Birth of Traged;~ a chapter that was part ofNietzsche's original text, before its Wagnerian additions. In this chapter, Nietzsche's focus shifted from the opposition of Apollinian and Dionysian internal to (and constitutive of) Greek civilization to the opposition of Greeks and tl1cir antitl1etical otl1er: " The Prometheus story is an

This schema continues to inform N ietzsche's later writings, but witl1 some nuru1eed changes. Thus, the contrast of Prometheus and Eve recurs in Daybreak §83 (1881), The Gay Science §135 (1882), and The A ntichrist (1888) §§48 - 49, but in these passages he broadens his analysis so that the biblical story represents not only Judaism per se but also Christianity and the priestly orientation in general. In notebook entries of 1888, one also finds hi m attempting to disarticulate tl1e contrast of Aryan and Semite from that of life-affirming and life-denying orientations and to u·eat the presence or absence of a priestly perspective as a third interacting, but rela-

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Prometheus Greece Aryan Male Bold sacrilege Fire( = cu ltural accomplishment) Tragedy Etl1ic ofEvil Proud defiance Suffering and strength

: Eve:: : Israel :: : Semite :: : Female: : : Mendacious deception :: : Fruit (= sexual pleasure) : Melodrama:: :Ethic of Sin:: : Neurotic guilt :: : Remorse and weakness.

Chapte1· Th1·ee

From the Rmaissance to the Secmui Wol'ld War

tivcly independent, variable. In this way, he identified Buddhism (favored by Schopenhauer and Wagner) as a life-denying Aryan religion while treating Islam and early parts of the Hebrew Bible as its life-affirming Semi tic counterpart. 74

1fKuhn was the leading proponent of"Comparative Mythology" in Germany, Friedrich Max Mi.iller (1823-1900) played a similar role fo r anglophone audiences. German by birth, he immig rated to England, where he became the first professor of comparative philology at O xford, edited the Rg veda and Sacred Books ofthe East) wrote copiously, and delivered countless popular lectures that could draw audiences numbering in the thousands.75 As a you ng man, reading Friedrich Schlegel's Uber die Sp1'ache und Weisheit der Indier (1808 ) led him to take up the study of India, and alecture by the aged Schelling stimulated his in terest in myth .76 Determined to get the best edu catio n possible, he studied philology with Bopp in Berlin and read Sanskrit under Eugene Burno uf ( 1801- 52) in Paris before coming to England in 1847, where he hoped to work on Vedic manuscripts in the possession of the East India Company. Once in England, he made his way to Oxford through the good offices of Baron Christian Bunsen ( 17911860), a gentleman-scholar knowled geable in Persian, Arabic, and Old Norse, who served as Prussian ambassador to England and hoped- quite correctly- tl1at this ta lented young man would bring the latest German scholarship to the British Isles and spread the vogue for Aryan antiquity. 77 For Btu1sen, the discourse of Aryans was suffused witl1 German nationalism,78 but Max Mi.iller showed such tendencies only in a few exceptional cases, most notably his letters "To the People of England," written during tl1e Franco-Prussian War. 79 For tl1e most part, however, tl1e Aryans he concerned himself witl1 were those not of northern Europe but of South Asia.

The desire to promote a more benevolent colonial policy toward India is a subtext in many of his writings, and the comparisons between Sanskrit and Greek data liberally sprinkled throughout his work had the cumulative, and not coincidental, effect of nudging and cajoling his aud iences to recognize tl1e Indian other as a long-lost member of "our" family. Although his position was reasonably enlightened for its time, still it had its limits and internal contradictions. IfVedic India and Homeric Greece were set on a par, such was hardly tl1e case witl1 Victorian England and its Indian possessions. Among the chief th ings that kept India backward, according to Max MUller, was myth, which he related and contrasted to poetry within the framewo rk of a general theory of religion and language. Like Hamann and Herder, he took poetry to be present fr·om human o rigins and to reflect an innate religious awareness: an unmediated, intuitive response to the wonders of creation. Myth, in contrast, was a later development, a "disease of language" occasioned by certain grammatical and stylistic features particularly characteristic of the Aryan languages. Highly expandable roots, tor instance, nouns categorized by gender, and surplus synonymy all permitted common nouns to be misrecognized as divine names, just as poetic descriptions of natural phenomena-the sun rise and thunderstorm, for example-could be misperceived as accounts of supernatural beings and their fabu lous adventures. 80 The very ling uistic proclivities tl1at made Aryans imaginative and creative thus led tl1em to convert poetry into myth, with consequent multiplication of deities, religious decadence, and intellectual confusion . Contrasti ng features in the Semitic languages (above all, the stabi lity and transparency of their roots) made tl1em less creative and more ri gid tl1an tl1eir Aryan counterpar ts but kept Jews, Muslims, and C hristians staunch monotheists, little disposed to tl1e seductions of myth. The genius of the Semites was for ritual; that of tl1e Aryans, for mytl1. This analysis is even more strained than tl1e present description suggests, since behind it lies qu ite an artificial taxonomy. T hus, lingu ists of the period generall y distinguished benveen languages that made use of inflection and those that did not, maintaining that tl1e former were more complex and supported more soph isticated thought processes. The most important language families witl1 inflection were Aryan (or Indo-European) and Semitic, but tl1ese djffered in tl1at Aryan roots typically had two consonants and a vowel, while those in Semitic had three consonants. Scholars who wished to distingu ish between the languages (and, more important, tl1e

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In his later life and writings, Nietzsche became troubled by the vu lgar anti-Semitism and narrow chauvinism he recognized in Wagner's adoring Bayreuth establishment. Accordingly, in works like the first book of On the Genealogy of Mo1'als) he reconfigured the conventional contrast of Aryan and Semite so that it no longer replicated that of Greek and Jew in straig htfotward fashio n but now culminated in the oppositi.on of Greek and C hristian, Christianity being treated as the extreme form of all that is odious in Judaism. To discuss these developments takes some time, and I will return to the question in chapter 5.

IX

Chn.pte1· Three

F1·om the Rmaissn.nce to the Seco~1d Wodd Wm·

Discourse about language changed a great deal over the nineteentl1 centu ry. Not only did teclmical knowledge oflndo-European phonology and

·phology improve dramatically, rendering the comparative mytl1ologists mrn . . . more vulnerable to technical criticism, but core paradtgms also shtfted. cvet . . . In 1770, when linguistics was still not constitute·d· as a dtsctplt ne~ Herder made his reputation by winning an essay competttton of the ~erhn AcademY 011 the burnin g issue of the day: tl1e. origin of langua~;·, 5 W~en t~1e first disciplinary associatio n was created tn 1866 (the Soctete de lmgmstique de Paris), its bylaws specifically prohibited cotm~mnication~ on that very topic.s6 To the end of his days, Max Muller rem~ned st~tek 111 the ~s­ sumptions of an older philology, working unsystematically wttll superfiCial resemblances of individual names and approaching language tlwough ancient texts, on tl1e basis of which he sought to recover a prehistory reaching back to creation. In the meantime, others had establish ~d regul.ar t~bles of phonologic correspondences that rendered many of hts favo n te etymologies" untenable. Even more tl1reatening in tl1e long run were nvo ot11er developments: the growing tendency to study language as a living, spoken entity rather than a textual arti fact and tl1e introd uction of synchronic, structural linguistics by Ferdinand de Saussure (1857- 191 3) to complement historic, reconstructive endeavors. 87 Changes in the discipline of antl1ropology also had profound consequences fo r tl1e study of myth . In Germany, France, and elsewhere on tl1e continent, the discipline of anthropologie generally organized itself as part of the natu ral sciences, with relations to medicine and zoology at least as close as those which connected it to etlmology. Encompassing the study of anatomy and physiology, the field constituted tl1e human body as its primary object of study, then sought to articulate clear taxonomies within t11e hu man species, which could be validated in quantitative fashion. D rawing on models they derived fi·om Linnaeus, Danvin, Mendel, and at times Gobineau, anthropologists working within this disciplinary paradigm differentiated black, white, and yellow races; Aryans and Semites; Nordic, Alpine, and Mediterranean peoples; and so fortl1, on tile basis of skin color, craniometric ratios, and otl1er physiological indices. 88 Such physical anthropologists were amenable to those aspects of Max Mi.iller's work tilat reflected and sustained their own favored categories, particularly tl1e Aryan /Semite divide, but they were as little interested in questions of myth as they were in other aspects of cultu re. At the same time, there were scholars in England, and to a lesser degree in France, who called tl1emselves by a variety of disciplinary titles (folklorists, ethnologists, sociologists, and historians of religions) and concerned themselves less with bodies than with beliefs and customs, tl1ereby locating

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peoples who spoke them ) were driven to all manner of specious arguments in their attempts to prove one of these systems superior to the other. In his earlier writings, Max MuUer followed the lead of Sir William Jones and included a third linguistic-cum-racial category in his map of humanity: the Turanian, or Turco-Mongol, family, alongside the Aryan and the Semite. 81 T his had the advantage of disrupting the starkly discriminatory or triumphalist binary that characterized the work of certain influential contemporaries, like his close fi·iend and colleague Ernest Renan (1823-92). 82 Turanians never really held his interest, however, and Max Muller kept slipping back into an opposition of Aryan and Semite, with Turanians and others relegated to the sidelines. But even in texts of this sort, he employed a genial, diffuse diction that avoided harsh judgments and sharp edges. Rather than champion one people against the other, he idealized a vaguely Hegelian synthesis, such as occurred when (Aryan ) Europe converted to (Semitic) Clu-istianity. English colonialists-whose historic and cultural accomplishments were made possible by that synthesis - thus had the possibility of helping their benighted Indian brethren, he suggested, by gently weaning tl1em from Aryan mytl1s and converting tl1em to tl1e Gospel. One might think tl1is position would have endeared Max Muller to missionaries, but in fact it did not. Rather, they found him entirely too sympat!1etic to tl1e "heathen" and suspected him of being insufficiently committed to tl1e faitl1. Accordingly, in 1860 he was passed over for Oxford's Boden chair in Sanskrit, which carried responsibility for preparing the Sanskrit-English Dictionary) botl1 of which were intended , under tl1e terms ofLt.-Col. Boden's will, to advance the conversion ofindians to Christianity, not to foster English understanding or respect for India. 83 Ma.x Mi.iller's disappointment was keen, and in 1868 a chair in comparative philology was created for him by way of compensation. Even so, he witl1drew from it in 1875, ostensibly to pursue his research, lecturing, and editorial responsibilities. In later years, he comted and won a large popular following, whose enthusiasm fo r comparative mythology seemed boundless, but in tl1e process he became ever more simplistic and repetitive, lost track of academic advances, and left himself open to harsh criticism on several fi·onts. 84

X

Chapter Three

From the Renaissance to the Second World War

themselves in the intellectual space where social, cultural, and symbolic antlu·opology would develop. Drawing on data they extracted from missionaries' accounts, travelers' reports, and the memoranda and reminiscences of colonial officials, scholars like E. B. Tylor (1832-19 17), Andrew Lang (1844- 1912 ), W. Robertson Smith (1846-94), Sir James George Frazer (1854- 1941 ), Emile Durkheim (1858-1917), Marcel Mauss (18721950), and Arnold van Gennep (1873-1957) worked out a radically different model of myth from tlut of the comparative mytl1ologists. Having come to see myilis as primarily an oral, and only secondarily a textual, phenomenon, tl1ey studied them in connection with ritual performances and patterns of social organization rather tl1an with language and poetics. 89 In broader fashion, tl1ese scholars also transterred a Darwinian model of evolution from the biological to tl1e cultural sphere, orienting tl1eir professional mission toward tl1e category of "tl1e primitive." This key term marked not just temporal but also spatial, racial, and political difference and vvas applied to all those peoples to whom the European metropole would deny coeval status. 90 Theorizing myths as tl1e stories o f primitive peoples, the pioneer anthropologists went on to constitute certain aspects of myili (e.g., the roles played by gods and animals, episodes of incest and catmibalism, instat1Ces of non-Aristotelian causality) as irrationalities that revealed the childhood of human tl1ought. This perspective reflected, and also helped legitimate, tl1e late nineteenth-century burst of colonial expansion by replacing earlier missionizing thematizations of the colonized as pagat1s in need of salvation witl1 a similar, but updated, narrative in which indigenes lacked, not the Christian gospel, but reason and/or history: iliey were people mired in myth. In the long- running debates between Max Muller and Andrew Lang, two different metl10ds, bodies of evidence, and disciplinary orientations confronted each otl1er, and a paradigm shift resulted. 91 Sti.ll, one o ught not overestimate tl1e importance of tl1at shift. For all its differences, tl1e victorio us anthropological model shared salient features with its p hilological at1tecedent. The latter differentiated Aryan and Semitic Volker on the basis of language, ilie former differentiated primitive and modern cultures on the basis of evolution, but botl1 discourses constructed a shup discontinuity between two sorts of people: one associated witl1 a European "us'' and the other with a lesser, alien "tl1em." In both instances, the presence or absence of myth was a crucial variable, although it was differently valued in tl1e two cases (table 3.1).

'!able 3 .1 Organizing Structures in Philological and Andtropological Approaches to Myth toward tl1e end of tl1e Nineteenth Century

In England, philologically grounded comparative mythology died with Max Mliller in 1900 and folkloric-at1tl1ropological models took over. Frazer's Golden Bough was particularly influential, offering an attractive evolutionist account of primitive mytl1s and magic. Here, Frazer focused on far-flung mytl1s of dying at1d rising gods, which he painstakingly collected, retold in Lively fash ion, and constituted as survivals of magico-ritual regicide as practiced in most ancient eras and among savages at very low levels of human development. From its first edition in 1890 to its tl1ird in 191115, The Golden Bough grew to n-velve fat, handsome volumes and reached an enormous public. Beyond andtropologists, it was embraced by classicists like Jane Ellen HatTison (1850- 1928), FratKis Cornford (1874-1943), and tl1e "Cambridge Ritualists," who held iliat mytl1 arose as an attempt to explain well-entrenched , but no longer understood, rites. Literary figures like Jessie Weston (1850-1928) at1d T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) also found Frazer attractive, as did Orientalists and historians of religions like S. H. Hooke (1874-1968), S. G. F. Brandon (1907-71), and otl1ers of the "mytl1 and ritual" school, who found Frazerian dramas in data from tl1e Bible and d1e ancient Near East.92 Among tl1e most important of those who acknowledged Frazer's strong influence was Bronislaw Malinowski (I884-1942), who shared some of his predecessor's interests and assu mptions but engaged him critically, rejecting his metl1ods and evolutionist perspective. 93 As Ernest Gellner put

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P hilo logical Model A1yarts Mythos ~Logos PolytJ1eist Complex Speculative, creative Conqu erors

Semites Ritual MonotJ1eist Simple FaitJ1ful, repetitive Holdouts and resisters

Anthropological Model PrimitiJJe MytJ1 & ritual Superstition Primitive Static Colonized

Modem Reason & history Science Progressive Dynamic Conque rors

Chapter Three

Flwn the Rmaissance to the Sccoml Wodd Wa1·

it, wid1 Malinowski, "andrropology was no longer to be a time-machine tor visiting the past, a study of retardations, fuelled by survivals: it was to be a tool for investigating the edmographic present, in which beliefs about the past are seen as functionally subservient to current, present needs."94 In a 1925 lecture, "Myth in Primitive Psychology," that was given inFrazer's honor, wid1 the grand old man in attendance, Malinowski began with a reminiscence of how reading The Golden Bough inspired him and led him to the study of anthropology. 95 This not:wid1standing, the text he delivered sounded the dead1 knell for his predecessor's armchair comparativism, as well as his preoccupation with texts and prehistory. Stressing the connection of text to context wid1in d1e (ed1nographic) present, he theorized myth as a form of"social charter," the details of which establish and legitimate the most important aspects of cu lture. Malinowski made it seem d1at d1ese revolutionary views grew entirely out of his pioneering fieldwork in d1e Trobriand Islands, d1e narrative of which has become a creation myd1 of sorts for modern anthropology. Recent research, however, has not only problematized his time in the field but has also shown d1at his ideas grew out of d1e broader trends in continental philosophy to which he was exposed as a student. 96 T hus, ilie first paper Mali nowski wrote as a student was "Observations on Friedrich Nietzsche's The Birth ofTragedy" (1904), in 'tvhich he showed particular interest in Nietzsche's view of myth as a source of cultureY7 More broadly and more importantly, d1roughout his youd1 and student days, Malinowski was influenced by Polish modernists and neoromantics, who rejected Hegel's view of history as a dialectical process culminating in the formation of a strong state on the Prussian model. Such ideas were particularly offensive to their nationalist sensibilities, since Poland, having been repeatedly partitioned by Prussia, Austria, and Russia, was a victim ofd1e same processes d1at Hegel hailed as progressive and inevitable. As a result, d1ey championed d1e nation-which d1ey understood, in typically romantic fashion, as an entity constituted by language, myth, folklore and culture-against the state while also championing the nation's eternal, that is, ahistoric, spirit against narratives of putative progress. 98 All of dus provides the background for the role assigned to myd1 in Malinowski's Frazer Lecture, where it appears as the defining and inalienable voice of a people, the transhistoric model in which their culture is embedded, and that which structures d1eir society, a society in no need ofd1e state. Behind all ofd1is one can perceive Herder's view of myth as Volksgeist, just as behind Frazer one can perceive the Platonic view of myth as "false and childish story."

Jn France, d1ings took a somewhat different course. There, comparative myd10logy, which flourished under Burnouf and Michel Breal ( 18321915), fell silent by the end of the nineteenth century, \oVhen the Durkheimians sided with Lang against Max Muller but took relatively litde interest in d1e subject of myth iliemselves.99 The first serious attempt to rescue ilie field from its desuetude was made by Georges Dumezil (18981986 ), who had been inspired while still a schoolboy by d1e aged Bn':al. Beginning with his dissertation (1924), Dumezil attempted to correct Max Mi.iller's mistakes by fusing d1e up-to-date philology he learned from Antoine Mei llet ( 1866- 1936 ), lus dissertation adviser and Saussure's successor, wid1 d1e anthropological d1eory he found in Frazer. Several books followed along d1ese lines before Dumezil decided -as had most od1ers - that Ius etymologies were questionable and his reliance on Frazer misguided.100 At d1at point, roughly 1936-40, he red1ought his basic assumptions, wid1 results that fulfilled Ius ambitions by resurrecting the field and giving it new legitimacy. The story is well known and has been narrated as a Herculean accomplishment, but also sometimes in od1er fashions. I consider aspects of it in chapters 6 and 7. In northern and central Europe, however, d1ings were quite different again from what d1ey were in England and France. There, the paradigm of Jand-myd1-and- T-fJlk and the patterned opposition of Aryan and Semite continued to serve powerful nationalist interests and remained relatively free from serious linguistic or and1ropological critique. As a result, comparative myd1ology wid1 strong Herderian subtexts persisted in the work of scholars like the Austrians Leopold von Schroeder (1851- 1920), Rudolf Much (1862 - 1936), Richard Wolfram (1901- ?), and Otto Hofler (1901-87); d1e Germans Hermann Gi.intert (1886 - 1948), Wald1er Wust (1901- 93 ), Jacob Willielm Hauer (1881-1962), Franz Ald1eim (18981976), Hans Heinrich Schaeder (1896-1957), Franz Rolf Sclrroder (1893- 1979), Herman Lommel (1885-1968), and Walter Otto (18781941); d1c Dutchman Jan de Vries (1890-1964); d1e Dane Vilhelm Gr0nbech (1873- 1948); d1e Swedes H. S. Nyberg (1889-1974), Stig Wtkander (1908- 83), and Geo Widengren (1907-96 ); d1e Romanian Mircea Eliade (1907-86); the Hungarian Karolyi Kerenyi (1897- 1973), and the Swiss Karl Meuli (1891-1968) and C. G. Jung (1875-1961).101

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73

XI Over the course of iliis chapter, I have tried to trace the genealogy of a discourse and have touched on some (but hardly all) of those involved in it .

Chaptel' Three

PI-om the Renaissance to the Sccoml Wm·Lrl Wn.r

As I understand it, that discourse involves five constitutive elements. Its starting point and major premise is Herder's notion of Volk as an entity defined by shared myths, language, homeland, and physiognomy. Second, its minor premjse is Jones's hypothesis of an ancie nt "Aryan" or " Indo-European" Urspmche, itself unattested, but the ancestor of Sanskrit, Persian, G reek, Latin, German, and several others. T hird, a logically questionable but rhetorically and ideo logically attractive conclusion drawn from the interaction of these two is the assumption that an Ursprache necessarily implies th e existence of an Urvolk, Urheimat, a set of Urmythen, and also an Urphysiologie to go with it. T he recovery of these (some o r all) is then constituted as the task of"reconstructive" research. Fourth is the motivating context of nascent nationalism, withi n which grou ps learned how to mobil ize themselves on the basis of shared language, myths, and (largely mythic) prehistory and how to make powerful claims o n territory and an autonomous state to match their (constructed) collective identity. Finally, a freq uent, but not constant, feature of the discourse is the tendency to contrast the myths, languages, and bodies of one's own Volll to those of other peoples. Conceivably any 1i umber of "others" could have been pressed into service by those who constituted themselves as "Arya ns." Most often, however, "Semites" were the chosen people, with resu lts that were rarely flatteri ng. In 1783, the year before the first volume of Herder's Idem appeared, none of the elements of this discourse yet existed, and, consequendy, d1ere were no "Aryans." As d1e discourse too k shape in subseq uent decades, its foca l o bjects acquired reality and enormous import for those who participated as speakers and hearers. Talk about Aryans spread rapidJy, for it engaged and stimulated (but never really satisfied) deep and lo ng-frustrated desires in northern E urope for a distinguished collective past and a national future of unity and power. Originating in the theories of Herder, a pastor-cum-philosopher, and Jones, an Orientalist-cum-lawyer, the discourse moved freely between academic and popular settings. Learned societies, universi ties, and books were its first venues and vehicles, but d1ese articulated with public lecture halls, opera houses, newsletters, cafes, and occultist societies. 102 For most of the njneteenth century, the great majori ty of scholars who wanted to speak o f myth did so within this discourse, altho ugh th ere were some who fo und different ways to engage the topic (e.g., Schelling and Creu zer). Toward the end of the century, other optio ns became available as ethnographic evidence came to fi gure more prominently in discussions.

.Even then, the older discourse of "Aryan myths" and "the fu)' aJl myth" retained considerable influence, particularly in Germany and central and northern Europe. T here, its influence waxed once again in the period leading up to 1933-a century and a half after its inception -at which point a new kind of speaker embraced it with terrible conviction and unprecedented consequences. Whatever importance the study of myth had acqui red in academjc settings paled in comparison with the fo rce un leashed when the Nazi party and state learned how to raJ1y the German Vollz around myths old and new.I03 The favo red themes of Nazi myth came directly o ut of the discou rse I have been treating in this chapter. T he T hird Reich 's master narrative was end lessly repeated in a variety of genres: speeches, films, iconjc symbols, and g reat public spectacles, academic writings like those of Hans F. K. Gunther (1891-1968), foremost theoretician of race, 104 or ranting screeds like Reichsleiter AJfred Rosenberg's Mythtts des 20. ]ahrhtmde1'ts. 105 But whatever the particulars, the collective hero was always the A.J·yan Volk, bound together by Blttt tmd Boden. Its villain, the Jew, was misshapen of body, bereft of Jus own language and land- the sources of Herderian identity-and, therefore, not just a racial other but a Gegentypus: the antithesis of what a proper Volk should be. The o pposition of Aryan a11d Jew was thcmatized as essential. I nscribed in their nature from time immemorial, it could end only in Armageddon o r, better yet, Ragnarok. C rude (and effective) propaganda to be sure , but aJso a myth : a myth o riginated and elaborated by scholars of myth, language, and prehistory, whose researches proved hideously recursive. So horrendous were the consequences of the discourse of A.J·yans in its Nazi version that it is easy to read all instances of the discourse through this simplistically foreshortened lens. In the next three chapters I want to look at some other variants and will focus on specific themes in the work of three individuaJs who were among the most brilliant, principled, and influential participants in th at discourse. Accordingly, I have chosen Sir William Jones as a representative of the eighteenth century, with Friedrich Nietzsche and Georges Dumezil doing like service for the ni neteenth and twentieth. These men show instructive contrasts in their training, national ity, political inclinations, professional stan1s, and religious sensibilities, but none was a Nazi or proto-Nazi (occasional charges to the contrary notwithstandjng), nor was any o ne of them par ticularly anti-Semitic by the standards of his times. Even so, the discourse they all enthusiastically engaged proved treacherous for them and fo r d1eir admjring readers.

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Mt·. Jotm 1s Myth of Origins

4

Mr. Jones's Myth of Origins

In the preceding chapter, I had occasion to speak of Sir William Jones and his theory that all those languages we now call "Indo-European" had a common o rigin from an unattested parent language of great antiquity. At the time, I was content to note the way Herder's views influenced the reception of Jones's hypothesis and postponed a fuller discussion o f how Jones arrived at it, preferring to follow further developments in the ninetee nth and twentieth centuries. But the story ofJones's antecedents, influences, and purposes proves to be much longer, more complex, and more surprising than is generally realized, and the time has come to tell it.

I In the pro logue to his Prose Edda) written around 1220, Snorri Sturluson wrote ofTroy as the center of the world: the perfect mediating point between north and south , hot and cold, where humans were larger, stronger, wealthier, and smarter than anywhere else. 1 Imaginin g the Trojans in such idealized fashion was easy enough, for classical literature- with which Snorri was familiar- al ready endowed them with considerable prestige. 2 Besides, Troy was far removed from him in time and space. As such, it o fre red littJe resistance to his projections, altho ugh its distan ce posed problems as well as opportunities. For, as lo ng as the Trojan s remained distant, it was difficult to connect these proto-Ubermenschen to the peoples of northern Europe witJ1 whom Snorri was more immediately concerned and for whom he wished to appropriate the Trojans' dignity. Accordi ngly, Snorri added a chapter to his story of tJ1e perfect center, tu rni ng it into a tale o f primordial migration. To prove tJ1at tJ1e Trojans 76

,ade their way north- thereby recoding tJ1e Norse as Trojans- he of-

~ercd linguistic and mythological evidence. Following fashionable euhemcrist lines of inte rpretation, he argued that the deities his pagan ancestors worshiped were not gods at all, but heroes whose origins could be deduced from tJ1eir name, insofar as tJ1e .£sir were really Asia-men. 3 The names of individual deities yielded similar results. Thus, for instance, it seems Priam had a grandson named Tror, presumably after tJ1e city: "We call him Thor. " 4 The goddess called Sif was actually the Sibyl. 5 And so on. The etymologies are strai ned and to us qu ite incredible, but tJ1cy are not witJ10ut their significance. For language, in Snorri's view-more precisely, the apparent similarity of the names gods and heroes bear in &tlerent languages-is the product of prehistoric diffusion, as well as tJ1e key instrument ilirough which one can gain knowledge of the underlying unity of the languages and the nature of tJ1e diffusio nary process. The prologue concludes with a passage tJ1at mixes the results of Snorri's inquiry and an account of his metJ1ods. "The .£sir took wives for themselves in that land, as did some of their sons, and tJ1ese families became populous. As a result they spread through Saxony, and from tJ1ence tJuoughout the northern regions. Their language- 'Asia-manic'-thus became the proper language of all tJ1e people in these lands. And people think they can discern from the records of tJ1eir ancestral names tJ1at they belonged to this language, and that tJ1e £sir carried this language here to the north, to Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and Saxony." 6 Troy figured similarly in the writing of other medieval intellectuals who were Snorri's near contemporaries. Writing in 1194, Giraldus Cambrensis, son of a Norman nobleman and a Welsh princess, drew the remarkable linguistic conclusio n that "almost all words in the Welsh language agree wi th eitJ1er Greek or Latin." 7 In support, he offered fourteen lexical comparisons, seven of which would hold up under modern scholarly scru tiny. Such a state of affairs was hardly coincidence, he reasoned. Rather, it proved that these languages all descended from a common source. He settled on Trojan, a conclusion he based on legends tracing Welsh and Roman ori gins to -r:roy, and tJ1en took that to confirm those very same legends. Toward the English, Giraldus's attitude was different. As Anglo-Saxons, they were Germans: people with whom Celts, Romans, and Trojans had no affinity at all. The Saxons and Germans contract tJ1eir cold nature from the cold region of th e pole in which they live and to which tJ1ey arc sub77

Chapter Fom·

Mt·. Jones's Myth ofOt·igitu

ject. The English also, although formerly from a remote region, still have an external quality of pallor and internal quality of coldness from their original nature. This is because the nature of their physical constitution is cold and moist, and they inalienably retain these qualities. The Welsh, in contrast, are from the hot and dl'y region of Dardania. Even though they came within these temperate territories, "those who cross the sea change climate, but not their soul." They retain the dark exterior that is the cognate color of the earth and the natural internal warmth that comes fi·om the dry humor. ...8

other Germans favored German, and Abraham Mylius (1563-1637)-also J<nown as Milius, Vander-Milius, Van der Mijl and Van der Myl-championed Belgian (i.e., Flemish or, more to the point, Dutch stripped of Protestant associatio ns). In a fascinating u·eatise of 1612, Mylius maintained that his motl1er tongue had suffered no change over time, constituting its supposed permanence as proof of its primordial status. Other languages he understood as more-and-less degraded dialects of Belgian. To explain how they came to be so, he imagined prehistoric waves of conquest, as when the eponymous heroes Brennus and Belgus imposed their tongue on the lesser Greeks and Romans. And should tl1ese giants ever return to contemporary Antwerp, Mylius was pleased to know that the purity of his language would let him converse freely with tl1em. 11

Snorri's accOLmt is rightly regarded as less than serious: a mytl1 spun by an errant scholar seeking to interpret anomer mytl1. In contrast, tl1at of Giraldus-which combines comparative linguistics, racially inflected physiognomy, origin Legends, imaginary migrations, and a prejudicial coupling of tl1e categorical oppositions nortl1-soutl1 and cold-hot- has been recognized as the earliest formulation of tl1e tl1esis oflndo-European languages, cultures, and prehistory.

III

Later scholars were kinder to tl1e Germanic peoples tl1an was Giraldus, particularly in the wake of tl1e Renaissance, when newly available texts, above all Tacitus's Germania, stimulated a wave of nationalist interest in the ancient GermansY As knowledge of Greek and Latin spread from ecclesiastical to academic circles, northern autl1ors often sought to demonstrate the relation of their vernaculars to mese prestigious languages and to consu·ue that relation in tl1e most advantageous terms. Like Giraldus and Snorri, tl1ey produced lists of shared vocabulary-sometimes specious, sometimes not-and argued for a genetic relation among the languages and peoples in question.lO Leading the pack, Joham1es Goropius Becanus (1518-72) posited that the original ancestral language, granddaddy of them all, was his native Dutch. Although he atu·acted few adherents to his thesis (outside the Low Countries, that is), he did have tl1e consolation of giving his name to me splendid fallacy of Goropianism, which consists of mistaking the language and people one knows and loves best for the oldest and most perfect. Adrian Schriekius ( 1560- 1621) kept tl1e faith for Dutch, but others argued with Goropi us while following his example. Olof Rudbeck (16301703) banged the drum for Swedish. Dietrich Westhof (1509-1551), Johann Ludwig Prasch (1637-90 ), Gerhard Meyer (1655- 1718), and

Theories of nortl1crn origins challenged not only the primacy of Rome and the church, Greece and the classics, Troy and the heroes, but also tl1at of the Bible, for orthodox religion looked to Israel as the cradle oflanguages and peoples. Within Scripture, moreover, there is an important text tl1at mixes ethnographic and linguistic concerns witl1 an account of human descent from a single point of origin. This is Genesis 10, which u·aces Noah's lineage through seventy-six patrilineal descendants, many of whom are transparentl y the fo unding ancestors of foreign nations. The chapter is very clear in its organization. First it am1ow1ees the birth order of Noal1's tl1ree sons: Shem, Ham, and Japhem, all born before the flood (Gn 10.1; cf. 5.32 and 9.18-27). Moving in reverse birth order, the text tl1en details the male descendants ofJaphetl1 (Gn 10.2-5), Ham (Gn 10.6-20), and Shem (Gn 10.21-31 ). In general, Japheth's progeny are associated wid1 peoples to the north and east oflsrael (Medes and Persians fi·om Madai, Ionian Greeks from Javan, etc.). Ham's line spreads to tl1e soutl1 and west tl1rough his sons Cush, Egypt, and Canaan. And d1e text's literally ethnocentric map situates Shem and his offspring (Elam, Asshur, Aram, et al.) at tl1e vital center. At each point where the text has finished with one line of Noah's descendants, it pauses to summarize its results. " These are tl1e sons of Japheili," announces Genesis 10.5, "in tl1eir lands, each with his own language> by their families, in d1eir nations" (my emphasis) . Similar statements are made about the lines of Ham and Shem at 10.20 and 10.31. In contrast to tl1e Tower of Babel narrative, which follows immediately, Genesis 10 presents linguistic differentiation as an organic process of growtl1 and

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II

Chapter Fotw

Mt•. ]oues)s Myth ofOrigim

division rather than the result of human arrogance and divine intervention.12 It treats languages, like the people and nations that speak them, as part of fami lies that ramify over time as members separate themselves fi·om one another spatially, genealogically, culturally, and linguistically. History is understood as this process of division, expansion, and individuation. Although the biblical text does not make the point, it invites those sufficiently speculative in temperament to believe that, at the level of thought, comparative inquiries can reverse tl1e en tropic effects of history. For by disclosing tl1e deep similarities of languages tl1at lie beneath their superficial differences, one can restore the unity people enjoyed in Noah's time. That Noah spoke Hebrew seemed obvious to all, as was the transmission of that language through the line of his eldest son, Shem. But because Genesis 10 treats Noah's sons in reverse order of their birtl1, slu·ewd exegetes perceived tl1e possibility of recalibrating the ethnic hierarchy and shifting primacy from Shem and the center to Japhetl1 and the north. This seems to be the reason why Goropius, when making his case for the D utch, used a host of strained, but ingenious arguments, to equate Dutch witl1 tile virtually unattested languages of the Cimbri and tl1e Cimmerians. Why was this so importan t? Because if successful, he could tllen use tl1e phonological features oftl1ese names to attach his people- those formerly known as Dutch, now rechristened CimbrijCimmerijGomeri-to tl1e biblical figure of Gomer. The payofl' is clear when one recognizes tl1at Gomer is tl1e first ofNoah's grandchildren to be named in the biblical text (Gn 10.2), as well as Japheth's first born. 13 At a minimum he stands as the oldest, highestranking member of tile nortl1ern family. And if Japheth is understood to outrank Shem, then Gomer emerges as the noblest of tilem all.

ous Samuel Bochardus, who favored the Pha:nicians, satisfy him. Wherefore, taking anotl1er path, he postu lated some sort of common language, which he called "Scythian," as the mother of the Greek, tl1e Latin, the German and the Persian from wh.ich tl1ese ' like dialects, would start. He did not tl1ink therefore that the Latins had taken from tl1e Greeks, nor tl1e latter fi·om the Germans, those things tl1at tl1ey have in common witl1 each otl1er but tl1at [all] came from the same origin, that is Scythian. As t11ese attempts of his became known to the public at large, they seemed wonderful to many because of tl1ei r novelty itself. . .. 14

IV As long as scholars kept trumpeting tl1e claims of th eir own nations and languages, tl1ere was bOLmd to be conflict among tllem. Alliances could be forged, however, by using categories and terms tllat united some of the contestants. It was tl1is tl1at Marcus Zuerius Boxh orn (16 12-53) sought to accomplish in work tl1at was summarized by a colleague.

)

)

Boxhorn's "Scythians" were an attractive choice for many reasons. First, being unconnected to any contemporary peoples of Europe, they could encompass all without privileging any. Second, they occupied a crucial position in the geographic imaginary of antiquity from Herodotus down through Aristotle, who constituted Greece as the ideal center mediating between barbarians of the north (Scythians) and tllose of the soutl1 (Libyans and/or Egyptians).15 Any latter-day champion of the north might thus be drawn to the Scythians. In tl1e si.xtll century, Cassiodorus and Jordanes had already connected tl1em to tl1e Gotl1s and Germans, and Snorri took tl1e names "Scythia" and "Sweden" to be cognate and claimed that people reterred to tl1e latter as "home of men," while tl1e former was " home of tl1e gods." 16 Although Boxhorn never published his proposed book, "The Scytluan Origins of the Peoples and Languages of Europe," he disseminated his views in lectures, discussions, and other writings, particularly a lengthy pamphlet ofl647. Thereafter, well into the eighteentll century the "Scyt11ian tl1esis" was the standard form in which claims of northern origins and privilege were encoded. Among iliose who rallied to tl1is slogan were many Dutch scholars (Georg Horn, Claude de Saumise ), along with Swedes (Andreas Jager), Germans (Georg Caspar Kirchmayer, G. W. Leibniz-who termed "Scytl1ia" vagina populorum ), and occasional otl1ersY Even Sir William Jones was tempted by it when he first broached the question oflinguistic reconstruction in a much-discussed letter of 1779 .1s

v

He o bserved tllat innumerable words were common to tl1e Germans, the Latins, the Greeks and other nations throughout Europe. He conjectured tllerefore that that resemblance started from a common source, tllat is, fro m tile common origin of all those peoples. The attempts ofJohannes Goropius Becanus and Adrian Schriekius displeased him, nor did tile machinations of the illustri-

Jones is often credited witll having been the first to form ulate what would later become known as tl1e "Indo-European" thesis. As most historians of linguistics have come to realize, however, Jones did not inaugurate this thesis in any radical fashion. Ratller, he marked an important moment in a

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Chaptet· Fottr

M1·. ]ones's Myth ofOrigiw

lo ng d iscussion, stretching fi·om Snorri and Giraldus Cambrensis through Goropius, Myli us, Boxhorn, Filippo Sassetti (1540-88), Leibniz, Father Ca:urdoux (1691- 1779), Lord Mon boddo (1714-99), and numerous others. 19

of human genius, aboundi ng in natural wonders, and infinitely diversified in tl1e forms of religion and government, in tl1e laws, manners, customs and languages as well as in the features and complexions of men.23

Jones was not simply repackaging the Scythian thesis, however, as some have claimed. 20 H e was familiar with that theor y but u·eated it with caution on th e one and only occasion he discussed it. I n the 1779 letter where he showed fa miliarity with the argume nt, he pronounced research in this area "very obscure and uncertain." 21 From what I can tell, Jones was not particularly enamored o f the north, still less of narratives about Nordic origins. Rath er, his preference was for the hot over th e cold, and he mapped this dicho tomy on an east-west axis, not north-south . Consider his remarks on the superiority of Asian to European poetry, written in 1772. " Whether it be that the immoderate heat disposes the Eastern people to a Life of in dolence, which gives th em fu ll leisure to cultivate their talents, or whether the sun has a real influence o n the imagination ... wh atever be th e cause, it has always been remarked, that the Asiaticks excell the inhabitan ts of our colder regions in the liveliness of their fancy, and the richness of their invention." 22 Jones's romanticization of Asia is evident in another passage of considerable historic importance: the opening words in the first of his "Anniversary Discourses," the annual lecnu·es he gave as preside nt of the Asiatic Society. The date was 15 January 1784. T he place, the Grand Jury Room of the High Court of Bengal, in Calcutta. Twenty- tline men gathered there following Jones's invitation to join him in creating an institutio n to support, advance, and dissemi nate the study of all things Asian. "Gentlemen," he began. When I was at sea last August , on my voyage to tl1is country, which l had long ardently desired to visit, I found one evenin g, on inspecting tl1e observations of th e day, tl1at India lay before us, an d Persia on our left whilst a breeze fi·om Arabia blew nearly on our stern. A situation so pleasing in itself, and to me so new, could not fail to awaken a trai n of reflections in a mi nd, which had early been accustomed to contemplate with delight the eventful histories and agreeable fictions of tllis eastern world. It gave me inexpressible pleasure to fin d myself in tl1e midst of so noble an amphitl1eatre almost encircled by tl1e vast regions of Asia, which has ever been esteemed tl1e nurse of sciences, the inventress of delightful and useful arts, tl1e scene of glorious actions, fertile in the productions

82

As interesting as tl1is paean to the Asian continent is the equally del irious reminiscence with which it begins: India to tile east in front of him, Arabia to the west at his rear, and Persia to tl1e nortl1 on his left hand. Mr. Jones

tancied himself at the center of the world: a situation that gave him almost unspeakable pleasure.

VI Sir William Jones (1746-94) was a man of extraordinary accomplishmen ts.24 Already as a student at Oxford (1764 - 68) he established hi mself as one of the world's fo remost linguists, with a splendid grasp of Greek, Latin, Hebrew, and Turkish, along witl1 a knowledge of Persian and Arabicsecond to none in Europe. As a scholar, poet, translator, and as an original politic.al th inker, sympathetic to the most liberal causes of his day, he won tile friendship and admiration of Samuel Johnson, Benjamin Franklin, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Edm und Burke, and many otl1ers while also earning high praise from the kings of England and Denmark. Ad mitted to t11e Royal Society of London and to exclusive circles of artists and intellectuals, he was still unable to make an adequate living. And so he sntdied the law (177073), took up a second career, became a leading jurist, and-were t11at not enough - acq uired a knowledge ofWelsh while on the court circuit. Ultima~ely~ he won appointment as a justice on the High Court of Bengal, whtch ts how he came to be on board HMS Crocodile en route for I ndia in that rapturous August of 1783. Disembarki ng in Calcutta, he was hailed as a godsend: the genius who would bring order to a host of disconnected inq uiries tl1at a group of talented and energetic young colleagues, such as Natluniel Halhed (17511830) and Charles Wilkins (1749 - 1836), had already undertaken .2s When Jones announced his intention to form a leamed society on the model of that in London, tl1e elite of British I ndia responded with enthusiasm . When he spoke, they listened and took his words as gospel. And when he ar~-anged for twenty-seven papers presented at early meetings of the society, mcluding eleven of his own, to be bound and shipped to Europe as the first volume of Asiatick Researches (1788), tl1e book provoked a sensation.26 Most celebrated of all was his hypothesis about the relation and com mon 83

Chapter Four

M1·. Jones )s Myth of Origins

origins ofEmopean languages, Sanskrit, and Persian. This was not so much a novel idea as a more nuanced version of a long-standing hypothesis, now endowed with unprecedented authority and powerful institutional backing. Sir William was the right man in the right time and place: that which he said was- or was taken to be-very much the right thing. His accomplishments and large body of admirers notwithstanding, Jones's reputation has slipped in recent years, particularly since Edward Said traced the genealogy of Orientalism- that is, an acquisitive, dominating, classifying, and distorting exercise of knowledge and power in th e service of Western imperial interests- directly to Sir William's door. 27 There is trutl1 in tl1is, just as there is in the older, more idealized portrait, which is to say that botl1 readings are partial and neither is complete. One aspect of Said's partiality (and an aspect tl1at discloses unexpected results) becomes apparent in an act of misquotation. His text reads as follows.

srrange items. Where did they come from? And how did they come to interest so enlightened a fellow as Sir William Jones?

Immediately upon his arrival there to take up a post with tl1e East India Company, [Jones] began the course of personal study tl1at was to gather in, to rope off, to domesticate the Orient and tl1ereby turn it into a province ofEuropean learning. For his personal work, entitled "Objects of Enquiry During My Residence in Asia" he enumerated among tl1e topics of his investigation "tl1e Laws of tl1e Hindus and Mohammedans, Modern Politics and Geography of Hindustan, Best Mode of Governing Bengal, AJ:itl1metic and Geometry, and Mixed Sciences of tl1e Asiaticks, Medicine, C hemistry, Surgery, and Al1atomy of the Indians, Natural Productions oflndia, Poetry, Rhetoric and Morality of Asia, Music oftl1e Eastern Nations, Trade, Manufacture, Agriculture, and Commerce of India," and so fortl1. 2s The use of quotation marks and lack of ellipsis make it look as if Said cites a continuous passage. In fact it is an enumerated list that Jones drew up for himself on board the Crocodile. What is more, seven of its sixteen members are omitted from Said's rendition, including those tl1at appear in the second , third, and fourth positions. Of less interest to Said tl1an tl1ey were to Jones, tl1ese items are: The objects of enquiry during my residence in Asia The laws of the Hindus and Mahomedans. The history of tl1e ancient world. Proofs and ill ustrations of scripture. Traditions concerning tl1e deluge, etc. 29

1. 2. 3. 4.

84

VII When Jones took up the study oflaw in September 1770, he suspended his other researches, and for tl1e next seven years he read no serio us books save those on legal topics. To tl1.is rule, however, he admitted a single exception: Jacob Bryant's three-volume Analysis of Ancient Mythology (1774 - 76 ). 30 So intrigued was he by tl1is now-forgotten opus that he quickly arranged a two-day visit with its author, in the wake of which he exclaimed, "I love the man and am wonderfully diverted witl1 his book." 31 Bryant (1715- 1804) was a complicated figure, part polymath and part dilettante, who compared languages and mythologies with more verve than rigor even by tl1e lax standards of his day. His goal was to reconstruct the prehistory of mankind and to confirm the account of Scripture, and like others who shared this ambition, he took the etlmology of Ge nesis 10 as his point of departure. In orthodox fashion, he granted a nominal primacy to the line of Shem, which included the nation of Israel and was responsible for all true, monotl1eistic religions thereafter. His prime interest, however, fell on Ham, fi:om whom he traced virtually all tl1e pagan peoples of antiquity and all polytheistic mythologies. Accordingly, he described how countless tribes and nations descended from Ham, some moving south and west via Phoenicia and Egypt, some nortl1 and east via Scytl1.ia. Over time, their languages and religions became ever more diverse and degraded, but everywhere fi·om Iberia to India, Bryant recognized tl1ree data iliat he constituted as evidence of tl1ese peoples' original identity, language, and religion. T hese were narratives of the Flood, legendary kings whose names resembled Noah's, and pantl1eons with prominent solar deities whose names resembled Ham's. T hese were all of tl1e line of Han1, who was held by his posterity in tl1e highest veneration. They called him Amon: and having in process of time raised him to a divinity, they worshiped him as the Sun : and from this worship tl1ey were styled Amonians .... As tl1e Al11onians betook tl1emselves to regions widely separated ; we shall find in every place, where tl1ey settled , tl1e same worship and ceremonies, and the same history of their ancestors. T here will also appear a great simi litude in the n ames of tl1eir cities and temples: so tl1at we may be assured , that the whole was tl1e operation of one and the same people. 32 85

Chapter Fo1~1·

Mr. ]ones)s Myth oj'01·igius

In effect, Bryant attempted to reorder the hierarchized ethnography encoded in the familiar narrative ofNoah's three sons, as had Boxhorn before him (fig. 4.1). His book gained a wide reading and provoked mixed reactions. Some admired the scope of his intellectual ambitions and his creative use of mythological evidence. Others were appalled at his etymological incompetence. 33 Jones seems to have had reactions ofboth sorts but was sufficiently fascinated by Bryant's endeavor that he chose to pursue it !limself, as reflected in the agenda he drew up aboard the Crocodile.

the characters of all pagan deities tended to melt into o ne another, for in India as in Rome these gods "mean only the powers of nature, principally those of the Sun , expressed in a variety of ways and by a multitude of fanciful names." 37 It is hard for a modern scholar not to hear anticipations of Friedrich Max Miiller in tl1is concl usion, and Max Mi.iller took more from Jones tl1an he ever acknowledged. 38 Jones, in turn, was dependent on Bryant and said so directly in the conclusion toward which his entire essay was organized: "We shall, perhaps, agree at last with Mr. Bryant, tl1at Egyptians) Indians) Greeks) and I talians) proceeded originally from one central place, and tl1at the same people carried their religion and sciences into China and japan: may we not add, even to Mexico and Peru?"39 This was the first time in Jones's published writi ngs that he posited "one central place" of origin fo r the religions, languages, and peoples of antiquity. In tl1e closing pages of his essay, he took pains to rebut the views of his friend Lord Monboddo, who in 1774 had offered a soutl1ern alternative to Boxhorn's Scythian thesis, treating Egypt as the cradle of all lan guages and civilizations. 4° Fo r the ti me being, however, Jones offered no positive thesis of his own. That tl1e gods of Greece, India, and Rome were interrelated he took as proven: "B ut whjch was the original system and which the copy, I will not presume to decide; nor are we likely, I believe, to be soon furn ished with sufficient grounds for a decision." 41 H is position was both modest and prudent, but perhaps also coy. Witl1i n a short time he would change it completely.

Genesis 10 . 1

Boxhorn's "Scythians"

1 Shem/center ~ 1 Japheth/nor.th

Bryant's "Amonians:;---....

/

1 Ham/Dispersed in all direCtiO;); 2 H am/sout h ~2 She m /cen te~ 2 Shem/Remaining in center 3 Japheth/north 3 Ham/south

Figure 4 .1 Reworking the biblical order of peoples, as encoded in the list of Noah's three sons.

Shortly after arriving in India (25 September 1783), Jones tu rned to that project. The fint result was his essay "On the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India" (1784), in which he used his new knowledge of Hindu deities to advance some twenty-two comparisons, virtually all ill-founded. 34 Appropriately enough, he started with Janus, Roman god of beginnings, whom he identified witl1 the Sanskrit Gane~a on the strength of superficial phonological and phenomenological resemblances. This warm-up exercise completed, he turned to ilie most important case, to which he devoted his lengthiest discussion. Here, drawing on Bryan t and adding his own convol uted arguments, Jones equated Saturn , oldest oftl1e Ro man gods, with Sanskrit Manu, survivor of ilie flood, whose byname Satya-vrata justified the comparison. Apparently, Jones took ilie name Manu to con tain t\>vo elements (Ma-nu), ilie latter of which he connected to Noah, Greek Minos (Mi-no-s), and Arabic Nuh. Saturn's connection to tl1e Golden Age also provided grist for the mill, since the first of the four Inclic world ages was sometimes known as tl1e Satya Yuga. And even though the Bible knows no such system, Jones perceived a set of four world ages, tl1e first of which ended witl1 Noah, tl1e Flood, and "ilie mad introduction of idolatry at Babel)" while the second began with Shem, Ham, and tl1e scattering of nations. 35 Were doubts possible about which version of tl1ese events and figures was oldest and most autl1entic, Sir William kindly laid them to rest, ruling in favor oftl1e BibJe.36 Jones also found solar deities in abu ndance and went so far as to say that

86

VIII This brings liS to me historic night-2 February 1786-when Jones delivered l1is "Third Atmiversary Discourse" to thirty-five members of the Asiatic Society and uttered the most memorable sentence of his life, which laid me basis for Indo-European studies. Endlessly cited, it bears repetition once more. The Sanscrit language, whatever be its antiqujty, is of a 'vvonderful structure; more perfect tl1an the Greek) more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity, botl1 in the roots of verbs and in me forms of grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident; so strong indeed, tlut no philologer could examine them aU tlu·ee, witl1out believing tl1em to have sprung from some common source, which, perhaps, no longer exists: tl1ere is a similar rea-

87

Chaptu· Four

Mr. Joucs 's Myth ofOrigiw

son , though not quite so forcible, for supposing that both the Gothick and the Celticll, though blended witl1 a very different idiom, had the same origin witl1 Sanscrit; and the old Persian might be added to the same fam ily, if this were the place fo r discussing any question concerning tl1e antiquities of Penia. 42

N

Linguists hold Jones's formulation in high esteem for its attention to issues of morphology as well as those of phonology and lexicography and for its prudent refusal to engage the question of where the posited "common source" might be located . Many view this sentence as the line of demarcation between prescientific speculation and a discipline with sound comparative and historic metl1ods, as later developed by Rasmus Rask (17871832), Jacob Grimm (1785-1863), Franz Bopp (1791- 1867), Adalbert Kuhn ( 1812-81 ), August Schleicher (1821- 68 ), Antoine Meillet (18661936), Emile Benveniste (1902-76), and otl1ers whose labors were stimulated by Sir William's suggestion. 43 Were this sentence all tlut existed and had it no implications beyond the realm of linguistics, all might be well and good. But it is also important-as well as disquieting-to consider Jones's theorization in its full breadth, where issues of myth, history, geography, race, progress, civilizational accomplishment and prestige, religion, and biblical authority all commingle freely. Recognizing this begins witl1 a sketch of tl1e intricate architecture undergirding tl1e Aruuversary Discourses. Jones delivered eleven such lectures between tl1e society's founding in 1784 and 1794, tl1e year ofhis deatl1. The first two were devoted to organizational and programmatic questions, and the last two seem to have gone beyond his initial plans. At the heart of tl1e series stand seven talks, which he explicitly framed as a set, devoted to resolution of a single great problem and meant to be taken togetl1er. Five were devoted to tl1e principal nations of Asia, tl1e sixtl1 to marginal populations, and the last offered summary and conclusions (fig. 4.2). 44 In each of the addresses treating individual nations tl1e discussion followed a consistent pattern, covering geography, history, and cultural accomplishments in sequence. With regard to the last, Jones focused on four specific domains: (a) language and letters, (b) philosophy and religion, (c) architecture and sculptme, (d ) science and arts. In his discussions of culture, Sir William offered not just description but also evaluation, basing his judgments on what he took to be levels of accomplishent and the extent to which one civilization influenced or was influenced by others. Consistently his remarks were crisp, confident, and supported by a wealth of detailed information, much of it specious, irrelevant, or botl1. Notwithstanding his confidence, it is obvious that the 88

TARTARS

w

PERSIANS

CHINESE

E

INDIANS

s FigUl'e 4.2 Peoples treated in Jo nes's third through ninth Anniversary Discourses

(1786 - 92).

q~a~1tity and quality of his knowledge varied widely, and he consistently pnv1leged the areas he knew best. Thus, language came first in his order of presentation, received fu llest treatme nt, and yielded results tl1at affected his jud~ment in all otl~er domains. Similarly, he treated India first among tl1e. nat1ons, evaluated 1t most favorably, and used it as the standard against whJCh he measured all otl1ers. The famous sentence, treating the perfection of the Sanskrit language and its relation to numerous others, th us stands as tl1e first piece of his evaluative project. Persia, the object of Sir William's earliest researches and possessor of languages closely related to Sanskrit, was also accorded privileged status. In contrast, he judged the Arabs de~ciel~t in all regards save tl1eir language, which is ancien t and precise but lnfenor to Sanskrit in several respects and 'vvhich also had little influence on otl1ers .. Thi~ s~t tl1e Arabs above the Tartars, however, 'vVho ranked high only for then· ongmal religion, a primitive monotheism that tl1ey rapidly aban89

Chapter Four

M1·. ]rmes)s Myth of Origim

Table 4.1 Evaluation and Ranking of Civilizational Accomplishments in Sir William Jones's Anniversary Discourses

1110ve he accomplished by denying virtually all Clunese cultural accomplishments tl1at could not be traced to India through Buddhism. Indians, .Persians, and Chinese were tlms all part o f the "Hindu race." Having reduced lus original group of five great civilizations to three in this fasluon, Jones took up tl1e question of lesser peoples-"borderers, mountaineers, and islanders"-in his eighth discourse, wluch derived all of its subjects (Phoenicians, Etluopians, Egyptians, Mghans, Gypsies, etc.) from tl1e set of tl1ree primordial nations. Here, one case of particular interest arose, mat oflsrael, but it is easier to see its importance after a few more pieces of me argument are put in place. Starting witl1 tl1e sixtl1 discourse, Jones provided a spatial locus for tl1e ancestral language of Sanskrit, Persian, and so on and for tl1e people who spoke tl1is originary tongue. H e reached his concl usion on tl1e basis of geography and geometry, invoking me prestige oftl1e center. " We may therefore hold tl1is proposition firmly established , that Iran or Persia in its largest sense, was me true center of languages, and of arts; which, instead of travelling westward only, as it has been fa ncifully supposed, or eastward, as might with equal reason have been asserted , were expanded in aUdirections to all tl1e regions of tl1e world, in wluch tl1e Hindu race had settled under various denominations." s2 Not content to make Iran tl1e homeland of one family of languages and people, Jones went on to insist tl1at the two otl1er families- Arab and Tartar-were also present in Iranian territory at me dawn of time. All o f this set tl1e stage for tl1e grand conclusions he oftered in tl1e "Nintl1 Anniversary Discow·se," "On tl1e Origin and Fanlliies of Nations" (23 February 1792). Here, Jones gestured toward Lim1aeus and Newton as models of scienticity and sum marized me results of me preceding lectures, giving particular emphasis to lus reconstruction of me tlu·ee primordial races. 53 Rapidly, however, he moved to bring tl1ese findings into alignment witl1 two texts he deemed aumoritative: Genesis l - 11 and Jacob Bryant's Analysis of Ancient Mythology. Toward tl1e first, Jones's attitude was contradictory, not to say disingenuous. Initially he postured, speaking of me Hebrew Bible as the most ancient of all lustoric sow-ces, but one open to tl1e same kind of doubt and criticism as any otl1er.54 In fact, however, since childhood he had been convinced of me inspired , inerrant nature of Scripture, and tl1e ultimate goal toward which he organized his lectures was "scientific" validation oftl1e Genesis accou nt. 5 5 In tl1is he took his lead from Bryant, as he proudly acknowledged at me start of me third and conclusion of tl1e nintl1 discourses. Even so, tl1e position he adopted vis-a-vis Bryant had its com-

Language and Letters Hindus Persians Arabs Tartars Chinese

P hilosophy Sculpnue and and Religion Architecture

+ +

+ + +

+ +

Science and Arts

+

+

cloned . Bringing up the rear were the Chinese, abo ut whom Jones fo und nothing either original or admirable (table 4.1 and appendix table 4.A.l). In his critical remarks Jones showed great assurance and little restraint. Before Muhammed, fo r instance, Arabic religion was characterized by " a stupi.d idolatry," 4 5 and Arab manners "were by no means favom able to the cultivation of a?'ts."46 Tartar literature "presents us witl1 a deplorable void, or witl1 a prospect as barren and dreary as that of their deserts." 47 As for poetry, "we find no genuine specimens ascribed to them, except some horrible warsongs." 4 8 China, most remarkably, is said to have had no ancient monuments and no originality in religion or science. Although tl1eir poems were " beautifully pathetick," when it came to painting, sculpture, architecture, and arts of imagination, " they seem (like otl1er Asiaticl?s) to have no idea." 49 Jones's attitude toward India and Persia, however, was strikingly different. Sanskrit was "exquisitely refined," Indian arts were "universally celebrated," their poetry was "magnificent and sublime in tl1e highest degree." so Citing Newton, he treated tl1e primeval Persian religion as oldest and noblest of all. 5 1 In general, when treating India and Iran, he conveyed tl1e impression of incomprehensible pleninlde, as opposed to m e impoverishment of Arabs, Tartars, and Chinese.

IX Beyond his evaluative project, Jones wished to reconstruct prehistory, and on tl'lis front he let his conclusions emerge gradually. The first piece of his argument came with tl1e linguistic analysis he offered for India (first topic, first nation) wim the celebrated sentence. The next major piece came in the "Sixtl1 Amuversary Discourse," where he connected tl1e peoples oflndia and Iran on me basis of tl1eir linguistic, religious, and artistic similarities. In tl1e sevenm discourse, he added China to tl1is same grouping, a 90

91

Chapter Fom'

Mr. ]ones 1s Myth ofOrigim

plexities. He regarded Bryant's views as preferable to all others but regrettably compromised by Bryant's ignoran ce o f all Asian languages save Hebrew. Accordingly, Sir William made it his task to correct and perfect the work of his esteemed predecessor.56 It was in this spirit that he identified the three primo rdial races his research had "independently" discovered as descending fi·o m Noah's sons (table 4 .2 ) and equated one of them with Bryant's beloved Amonians. 57 Later authors would also equate them witl1 the system o f Aryan s, Semites, and Turanians that was mentioned in chapter 3.

and Euplu·ates, and between tl1e Caucasus and tl1e Ganges. 59 T his division of peoples was permanent, and no amount of research would succeed in restori ng tl1e unity that was sundered or in recovering tl1e original language.60

X

Although Jones based most of his conclusions on linguistic analysis, he seems to have believed that the differences among these peoples were simultaneously linguistic, cultural, and physiologic or racial, the groups being totally separate " in language, manners, and features." 58 Although all descended from Noah , circa 1200 B.C.E., they separated at Babel, which he located at tl1e center ofiran (itselftl1e central realm ), between tl1e Oxus

In the ninth discourse Jones did not speak much about the character of tl1e three races, but one brief remark suggests tl1at he took them to be quite diflerent . T his is the passage in which he endorsed Bryant's view of the A.Jnonians: those whom Jo nes tended to call " the Hindu race" while remaining open to such alternatives as C ushian, Casdean, and Scythian. 61 Others of later date would know tl1em as "Aryans" and "Indo-European s." "Having arrived by a different patl1 at tl1e same conclusion with Mr. Bryant as to one of tl1ose fam ilies, the most in genious and enterprising of tl1e three, but arrogant, cruel, and idolatrous, which we botl1 conclude to be various shoots fro m tl1e Hamian or Amonian branch, I shall add but little to In}' tormer observations on his profound and agreeable work . . . ." 62 This characterization suggests a contrast to anotl1er group: tl1e border people whom Jones chose to discuss at tl1e conclusion of his eightl1 discourse, diametrically opposite the position accorded the Indian s and tl1e last people he would treat before moving to his summation. T hey were descendants of Shem, and their language showed their affinity to tl1e Arabs, tl1ough their " manners, literature, and history" were "wonderfully distinguished from the rest of mankind." 63 Jones's treatment of the Jews differentiates tl1em radically from their Amonian counterparts on two criteria (monotheism as opposed to idolatry and history as opposed to mytl1), while associating the two peoples on another (arrogance). Regarding ingenuity, enterprise, and cruelty he was silent, but in other respects his description was hardly neutral. Taking his lead from Isaac Barrow (163077), a tl1eologian and matl1ematician whom he regarded as one of the deepest minds of his age, Sir William wrote as fo1Jows.64 " Barrow loads them witl1 tl1e severe, but just, epitl1ets of malignant , unsocial, obstinate, distrustfu l, sordid , chan geable, tu rbulent; and describes them as fu riously zealous in succouring tl1eir own countrymen, but implacably hostile to other nations; yet, witl1 all tl1e sottish perverseness, the stupid arrogance, and the brutal atrocity of their character, they had the peculiar merit, among all races of men under heaven, of preserving a rational and pure system of devotion in the midst of wild polytl1eism , inhuman or obscene rites, and a dark labyrintl1 of errours produced by ignorance and su pported by interested fraud ." 65

92

93

Table 4.2 Sir William Jones's Identification of His T hree Primordial Races with the So ns of Noah, as Presented in H is " Ninth Anniversary Discourse, On tl1e Origin and Families of N ations" Noah's Sons

Ham

Sh em

Descendant peoples (certain )

Indians Persians Romans Greeks Goths Old Egyptians Cushitic peoples o f Afi·ica Phoenicians Phrygians Scandinavians

Jews Arabs Assyrians Speakers of Syriac Abyssinians

Descendant peoples (likely)

C hinese Japanese Ancient peoples o f Mexico and Peru

Cultural accomplishments

Invented writing, astronomy, Indic calendar, mythology

Composed the most ancient work of history

Japhet Tartars Slavs Peoples of northern E urope and Asia

No liberal arts No usc o f letters

Chapter Fom·

Mr. ]ones>s Myth of Origius

XI It has not been my goal in the preceding discussion to impugn the reputation of a rightly celebrated individual. Rather, I hoped to establish some points that go beyond matters ad hominem. First, the hypothesis for which Sir William Jones is most famous had deep antecedents and was always problematic. Most immediately, Jones was influenced by Jacob Bryant's biblioccntric attempt to trace all world mytl1ology back to Ham and all right religion to Shem. Behind Bryant stood a host of otl1ers, from Snorri and Girald us to Mylius, Boxhorn, Leibniz, and others, who participated in a discourse tl1at constituted mytl1s, languages, geographies, and ancient accounts, particularly Genesis 10- 11, as tl1e evidence from which to construct an account of human origins, descent, and interrelatio n. While their often baroque discussions remained focused on tl1cse data and tl1e most distant past, their actual center of interest was transparently elsewhere. Throughout tl1is whole body ofliterature one perceives ongoing attempts -alternately subtle, crude, ingenious, and outrageous-to recalibrate prejudicially tl1e relative djgnity and stature of peoples, nations, and races in their present moment of enunciation. Sir William Jones is an important, but also a convenient and instructive, figu re in tl1e history of this discourse. Conventional accounts, which have their own mythic or epic structure, make his celebrated sentence the moment when earlier fantasies and intuitions achieved tl1e rigoro us formulation tl1at marked and permitted tl1e beginning of science. A more critical genealogy of the discourse need not minimize his gifts no r impeach his motives while treating Sir Willjam's genius, stature, and organizational and promotional talents as crucial factors tl1at helped legitimate an enterprise in which various forms of chauvinism (racist, nationaljst, anti-Semitic, colonialist, and imperialist) were-and remained-implicit. It is not hard to reemplot the story in tl1e genres of tragedy and horror, as Leon Poliakov, Maurice Olender, George Mosse, Klaus von See, and others have done, by following the discourse's nineteentl1- and twentieth-century peregrinations, when Bryant's Amonians and Jo nes's "Hindu race" acquired tl1e name of "Aryans." 6 6 Since tl1e atrocities of tl1e Nazis in the Second World War, the term "Aryan" has virtually disappeared fro m polite conversation. Scholars who wish to pursue tl1e old discourse while marki ng t heir distance from its less savory aspects now use the term "(Proto-)Indo-European," also a coinage of the nineteenth century. In doing so, many sincerely believe tl1ey have

thereby sanitized tl1e discourse and solved its problems, but tl1ings are not so simple. Often such euphemizing attempts arc incomplete, superficial, evasive, and disingenuously amnesiac. Even when tl10roughly and thoughtfully executed, tl1ey can still render subtextual tl1e racist and nationalist agendas tl1at tl1e discourse of Aryans- which persists in covert cells and lurid newsletters-prefers to make explicit and salient and that certain readers easily supply where authors would suppress it. To be sure, neither Jones nor anyone else was wrong to perceive strong and systematic similarities among Sanskrit, Latin, Greek, and the rest. The question is what one makes of tl1ese similarities, and one steps onto a slippery slope whenever analysis moves from the descriptive to the historic plane of linguistics. In specific, reconstructing a "proto language" is an exercise tl1at invites one to inJagine speakers of that protolanguage, a community of such people, then a place for tl1at commu nity, a time in hjstory, distinguishing characteristics, and a set of contrastive relations witl1 otl1er protocommunities where otl1er protolanguages were spoken. 67 For all of tllis, need it be said, there is no sound evidentiary warrant. It was not as a student of language, moreover, that Jones entered this discourse but ratl1er as a student of myth and religion. Bryant's work was his inspiration and model, and his first attempt was tl1e 1784 essay "On the Gods of Greece, Italy, and L1dia." Although Jones broadened his perspective in the anniversary discourses, he contin ued to work with presuppositions and constructs taken from Bryant and other of his antecedents. It is also worth noting that altl1ough Jones adopted the stance and the voice of an incomparably erudite scholar in tl1e strictest Englightcnment fashion , the story he to ld was patently mytl1ic. Witl1in the an niversary djscourses, Jones narrated his own quest fo r the origin of languages and the ancient center from which peoples dispersed. Still, as objects of experience and of"scientific" knowledge, primordial origins and perfect centers remain notoriously elusive. They are constituted as objects of discourse, not knowledge, by bricoleurs who collect shards of information and prior narratives, from which they confect tl1e fictions that satisfy thei r otl1erwise unattainable desires while doing their ideological work. When students of mytl1-even eminent ones, like Sir William Jones, Snorri Sturluson, or Friedrich Max Mi.iller-succumb to tl1is temptation and engage in a discourse of origins and centers, the resul ts are particularly iron ic. In effect, they enter a recursive spiral, spi nni ng their own myths wh ile they si ncerely believe themselves to be interpreting myths of others, others who may even be tl1e product of their imagination and discourse.

94

95

APPENDIX Table 4.A.l Sir William Jones's Characterizations of Asian Peoples

Third discourse, on the Hindus (2 Feb. 1786)

Language and Letters

Philosophy and Religion

Sculpture and Architecture

The Sanscrit language, what· ever be its antiquity, is of a wonderful structure; more perfect than the Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either. .. .

Of the Indian Religion and Philosophy, I shall here say but little; because a full account of each would require a separate volume: it will be sufficient in this dissertation to assume, what might be proved beyond controversy, that we now live among the adorers of those very deities, who were worshipped under different names in old Greece and Italy, and among the professors of those philosophical tenets, which the Ionick and Attick writers illustrated with all the beauties oftheir melodious language . ...

The remains of architecture and swlpture in India ... seem to prove an early con· nection between this country and Africa: tl1e pyramids of Egypt, the colossal statues described by Pausanias and others, the Sphinx ....

Nor can I help believing, although the polished and elegant Dtvanagari may not be so ancient as the monumental characters in the caverns of ]arasandha, that the square Chaldaick letters, in which most Hebrew books are cop· ied, were originally the same, or derived from the same prototype ... the Phenician, from which the Greek and Ro· man alphabets were formed by various changes and inversions, had a similar origin, there can be little doubt.

Fourth cliscourse,

on the Arabs (15 Feb. 1787)

The Arabick language . .. is unquestionably one of the most ancient in the world, so it yields to none ever spoken by mortals in the number of its words and the precision of its phrases; but it is equally true and wonderful, that it bears not the least resem· blance, either in words or the structure of them, to the San· scrit, or great parent of the Indian dialects.

Their Vedas, as tar as we can judge from that compendium of them, which is called Upanishat, abound with noble speculations in metaphysicks, and fine discourses on the being and attributes of God.

We

may safely pronounce,

d1at before the M ohammedan

revolution, the noble and learned Arabs were Theists, but that a stupid idolatry prevailed among the lower orders of ilie people. I find no trace among them, till their emigration, of any Philosophy but Ethicks; and even their system of morals, gener· ous and enlarged as it seems to have been in the minds of a few illustrious chieftains, was on the whole miserably depraved for a century at least before Muhammed.

Fc\v moownents of antiqu\1:)' are p reserved in Arabia, and

ofdlosc few the best accounts are very uncertain . . . .

Science and Arts The labors of the I ndian loom and needle have been universally celebrated.. .. We arc told by the Greciatl writers, tlut the Indians were tl1e wisest of nations; and in moral wisdom, they were cer· tainly eminent .... If their numerous works on Grammar, Logick, Rhctorick, Musick, all which are extant and accessible, were explained in some language generally known, it would be found, that they had yet higher pretensions to the praise of a fertile and inventive genius. Their lighter Poems are lively and elegant; their Epick, mag· nificent and sublime in the highest degree

>he manncn of ~\\c Hcj4zi Arabs wh\c:h have continued,

we know, from the time of Solomon to the present age, were by no means favourable to the cultivation of arts; and, as to sciences, we have no rea· son to believe, that they were acquainted with any.

Table 4 .A.l (Continued)

Fifth discourse, on the Tartars (21 Feb. 1788)

Sixth discourse, on the Persians (19 Feb. 1789)

Language and Letters

Philosophy and Religion

Sculpture and Architecture

Our first inquiry, concerning the languages and letters of the Tartars, presents us with a deplorable void, or with a prospect as barren and dreary as that of their deserts. The Tartars, in general, had no literature: (in this point all authorities appear to concur) the Iitrcs had no letters: the Hum, according to Procopius, had not even heard of them.

We are told by Abu'lghazi, that the primitive religion of human creatures, or the pure adoration of One Creator, prevailed in Tartary during the first generations from Yifet [i.e., Japhet], but was extinct before the birth of Oghliz, who restored it in his dominions; that, some ages after him, the Mongols and the Tttrcs relapsed into gross idolatry.... Of any Philosophy, except natural Ethicks, which the rudest society requires and experience teaches, we find no more vestiges in Asiatick Scythia than in ancient Arabia.

The only great monuments of Tartarian antiquity arc a line of ramparts on the west and cast of the Caspian . ... Even if we should admit, that the Eigh1iris ... were in some very early age a literary and polished nation, it would prove nothing in fuvour of the Huns, Tttrcs, Mongals, and other savages to the north of Pekin, who seem in all ages, before Muhammed, to have been equally ferocious and illiterate.

T he primeval religion of Iran .. . was that, which Newton calls the oldest (and it may justly be called the noblest) of all religions . .. the first monarch of I rim and of the whole earth was Mahabad, a word apparently Sanscrit, who divided people into four orders, the religiou.s, the military, the commercial, and the servile, to which he assigned names unquestionably the same in their origin 'vith those now applied to the four primary classes of the Hindm. They added, that He received from the creator, and promulgated among men, a sacred book in a heavenly lang1tage, . . . we can hardly doubt, that the first corruption of the purest and oldest religion was the system of Indian Theology, invented by the Brahmans and prevalent in these territories, where the book of Mahabad or Menu is at this hour the standard of all religious and moral duties.

On the ancient monuments of Persian sculpture and architecture we have already made such observations, as were sufficient for our purpose; nor will you be surprized at the diversity between the figures at Elephanta, which are manifestly Hindr. and those at Persepolis, which arc merely Sabian, if you concur with me in believing, that the Takhti Jemshid was erected after tl1e time of Cayumcrs, when the Br~ihmans had migrated !Tom Iran, and when their intricate mythology had been superseded by the simpler adoration of the planets and of fire .

The oldest discoverable languages of Persia were Chaldaick and Sanscrit ... but all had perhaps a mixture of Tartarian ... so that the three fumilics, whose lineage we have examined in former discourses, had left visible traces of themselves in Iran, long before the Tartars and Arabs had rushed from their deserts, and returned to that very country, from which in all probability they originally proceeded ....

Science and Arts From ancient monuments, therefore, we have no proof, that the Tartars were themselves well-instructed, much less that they instructed the world; nor have we any stronger reason to conclude from their general manners and character, that they had made an early proficiency in arts and scimces: even of poetry, the most universal and most natural of the fine arts, we find no genuine specimens ascribed to them, except some horrible warsongs expressed in Persian by Ali ofYczd.

the sciences or arts of the old Persians, l have little to say; and no complete evidence of them seems to exist.

1\s to

5

Nietzsche's "Blond Beast"

I Toward the end of chapter 3, I promised to give fuller consideration to Nietzsche's later writings and to explore the way he refashioned the con trast of Aryan and Semite, such that C hristianity, even more than Judaism, could play the part of the Aryan's foil. In order to do so, I want to foc us on what is perhaps the most notorious phrase in all Nietzsche's writings"the blond beast"- which occurs five ti mes, four in On the Genealogy of Momls (1886) and once in TJVilight of the Idols (1888). It first makes its appearance in a passage where Nietzsche described an ancient type of warrior nobles who, in thei r behavior toward peoples they (and he) regarded as their inferiors, are not much better than uncaged beasts of prey. There they savor a freedom from all social constrain ts, they compensate themselves in the wilderness for the tension engendered by protracted confinement and enclosure within the peace of society, they go baclz to the innocent conscience of the beast of prey, as triumphant monsters who perhaps emerge fro m a disgusting procession of murder, arson, rape, and tortu re, exhilarated and undisturbed of soul, as if it were no more than a students' prank, convinced they have provided the poets with a lot more material for song and praise. One cannot fai l to see at the bottom of all these noble races the beast of prey, the splendid blond beast [clie prachtvotle ... blonde Bestie] prowling about avidly in search of spoil and victory; this hidden core needs to erupt from ti me to time, the animal has to get out agai n and go back to the wilderness: the Roman, Ara-

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Chn.pte1· Five

Nietzsche's «Blond Ben.st»

bian, Germanic, Japanese nobility, the Homeric heroes, the Scandinavian Viki ngs-they all sh ared ti-lls need. It is tl1e noble races [die vornehmen Rassen] tl1at have left behind them the concept "barbarian" wherever they have gon e .. .. 1

While Nietzsche acknowledged tl1is redefinition of values as the fo undation of culture, he denounced it as a disaster:

Here, Nietzsche listed six examples oflus "blond beast," and the structure of his sentence divides tl1em in two unequal groups. Thus, all eilinonyms occur in adjectival form , tl1e first four of which modify a single noun: "Roman, Arabian, Germanic, and Japanese nobility," tl1at is, tl1e ruling stratum of these vario us peoples. The final two ethnonyms get tl1eir own nominal titles, however: Homeric heroes and Scandinavian Vikings. The argument then proceeds by expanding on the examples of Greeks and Gennans: Pericles specially commends tl1e rhathymia of tl1e Atheniansilieir indifference to and contempt for security, body, life, comfort, their hair-raising cheerfulness and profound joy in all destruction , in all tl1e voluptuousness of victory and cruelty-all tl1is came togetl1er in tl1e mi nds of those who suffered from it, in tl1e image of the "barbarian," tl1e "evil enemy," perhaps as ilie "Gotl1s," tl1e "Vandals." The deep and icy mistrust the German [der D eutsche] still arouses today whenever he gets into a position of power is an echo of iliat inextinguishable horror witl1 which Europe observed fo r centuries that raging of ilie blond Germa~uc beast [dem Wuthm der blondm germanischen Bestie] ( altl1ough between the old Germanic u·ibes and us Germans [zwischen alten Germanen und uns Deutschen] tl1ere exists hardly a conceptual relationship, let alone one of blood). 2

These bearers of the oppressive instincts that tl1irst for reprisal, tl1e descenda11ts of every kind ofEuropean a11d non-European slavery, a11d especially of tl1e entire pre-Aryan populace [alle1' vorarischen Bevolkerung in Sonderheit]- tl1e y represent tl1e regression of mankind! These "instruments of culture" a~·e a disgrace to man and ratl1er an accusation and cow1terargument against "culture" in general! One may be quite justified in continuin g to fear tl1e blond beast at tl1e core of all noble races [der blonden Bestie auf dem Grunde alter V01' nehmen Rassen] and in being on one's gua~·d against it: but who would not a hundred times sooner fear where one ca11 also admire tl1a11 not fear but be permanently condemned to tl1e repellent sight of tl1e ill-constituted, dwarfed, atrophied, and poisoned? And is tl1at not our fate? 4

Later in tl1e Genealogy of Morals, Nietzsche traced ilie origins of ilie state to "some pack of blond beasts of prey, a conqueror and master race [irgendein Rudel blonder R aubthiere, eine Eroberer- und H erren-Rasse] wluch, organized for war and witl1 tl1e ability to organize, tmhesitatingly lays its terrible claws upon a populace perhaps u·emendously superior in numbers but still formless a11d nomad." 3 To every action, h owever, tl1ere is a reaction. Fueled by ressentiment, the weak/meek underlings whom tl1e warrior nobles consu·ued as "bad" (bose) turned tl1e tables by defining their oppressors as "evil" (ubel) while appropriating ilie term "good" for tllemselves a11d tl1eir characteristically modest and timid demeanor. Through this revolution in moral discourse, they devalued a11d tamed the noble races.

It is probably asking too much to expect strict propositional consistency in t11ese intemperate remarks, which are more polemic provocation tl1an rigorous exposition: heavy artillery, as N ietzsche put it, or "philosophizing witl1 a hammer." Still, several points are clear. First, the blond beast phrase marks a privileged type of humanity that is itself construed not as one specific race but as a category tl1at encompasses multiple races, each of iliem noble and conquering (eine vornehme Rasse or eine Erobere1'- und HerrenRasse). Second, t he ancient Aryans are a particularly important, but not tl1e only, example of tl1is type. Altl1ough four of ilie six examples cited (Romans, Germans, Greeks, and Vikings) vvould have been classified as Aryan, a term Nietzsche used already in his earliest writings, as we saw in chapter 3, he carefully constructed the category of ilie blond beast to include Arabs and Japanese, so tlut it was broader than a strictly racial entity and was defined by a characteristic disposition and pattern of actions ratl1er than any somatotype. Having served this role, however, his two non-Arya11 examples disappeared from Ius text and received no furtl1er consideration . Ratl1er, his detailed discussions were all devoted to ilie Greeks and the Germans, especially the latter. 5 Third , Nietzsche posited a historic rupture that separates ilie fierce blond beast peoples from tl1eir railier patl1etic descendants. Along tl1ese lines, he drew a particularly sharp distinction between the ancient and modern Germans, whom he referred to as die Germanen and die Deutschen, a distinction often lost in tra11slation. Fourtl1, tl1e state was created by blond beasts through a violent process and is a disquieting

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Chapter Five

Nietzsche's «Blond Benst»

entity; nonetheless, it remains preferable to culture as we now know it. Finally, the conquered peoples who took revenge on their conquerors by revising morality and founding culture are identified with pre-Aryan, but not specifically Semitic, races.

the way, were definitely a blond race; it is wrong to associate traces of an essentially dark-haired people which appear on the more careful ethnographical maps of Germany with any sort of Celtic origin or blood-mixture, as Virchow still does: it is rather the preAryan people of Germany who emerge in these places. (The same is true of virtually all Europe: tile suppressed race has graduall y recovered the upper hand again, in coloring, shortness of skull, perhaps even in tl1e intellectual and social instincts: who can say wbetl1er modern democracy, even more modern anarchism and especially mat inclination for "commune,, for the most primitive form of society, which is now shared by all the socialists of Europe, does not signify in the main a tremendous counterattaclz- and tl1at tl1e conqueror and master race, the Aryan [die Eroberer- u.nd Herren-Rasse, die de1· Arier ], is not succumbing physiologically too? ) 10

II The blond beast is more than a flamboyant and regrettable, but ultimately insignificant, rhetorical gesture. Rather, it figured prominently in Nietzsche's later writings, and until 1945 it was as highly favored by Nazi ideologists as it is now generally ignored by those who make Nietzsche their model and icon of critical thinking. 6 Given the postmodcrn vogue for Nietzsche, it is hard to remember how much labor it took to salvage his reputation after the war, a task shouldered in tl1e English-speaking world largely by Walter Kaufmann? "The 'blond beast' is not a racial concept," Kaufi11at1n pronounced magisterially, "and does not refer to the 'Nordic race' of which the Nazis later made so much. Nietzsche specifically refers to Arabs and Japanese, Romans and Greeks, no less than ancient Teutonic tribes, when he first introduces tl1is notorious term -and the 'blandness' presumably refers to the beast, tl1e lion, ratl1er than tl1e kind of man." 8 In later editions of his book, Kaufmann ceased referring to tl1e blond beast phrase as "notorious," having convinced himself of its innocuousness.9 If tile "blond" in question were only a lion, one could conclude mat Nazis and otl1ers abusively read race-which was their issue ratl1er than Nietzsche's-into passages where it had no place. The lion tl1eory, however, will not hold. Nietzsche was quite clear about what blond hair meant and to whom it belonged. Early in the Genealogy of Morals (I §5 ), a few paragraphs before the beast first appears (I §11 ), he spoke of "tl1e blond, tl1at is Aryan, conqueror race" (der herrschendgewordnen blonden, namlich arischen Eroberer-Rasse) while engaging in some etymological play mat is as revealing as it is philologically dubious. T he Latin malus ["bad") (beside which I set melas ["black"]) may designate tl1e common man as tile dark-colored, above all as tl1e black-haired man ("hie niger est-"), as tile pre-Aryan occupant of the soil of Italy who was distinguished most obviously from tl1e blond, tl1at is Arycu1, conqueror race by his color; Gaelic, at any rate, offers us a precisely similar case- fin (for example in tl1e name Fin-Gal), the distinguished word for nobility, finally for the good, noble, pure, originally meant tile blond-headed, in contradistinction to the dark, black-haired aboriginal inhabitants. T he Celts, by

In tllis passage, Nietzsche used two thin and misguided pieces of "evidence"-the phonologically impossible comparison of Latin malus ("bad" ) to Greek -melas ("black"), and the tendentious translation o flrish jimt as "blond" rather than "fair, slurring, brilliant"-as tile basis tor some far-ranging conclusions. 11 Seenlingly, on tl1is fragile basis, he equated blond hair with Aryan conquerors and the moral good, dark hair witl1 tl1eir opposite: not Semites, but sickly pre-Aryans of unspecified sort. The dosing sentence of the passage is also worth attention. Disarmingly framed as a parenthesis, it contains Nietzsche's racial receding of political movements he viewed with distaste: democracy, anarcllism, socialism, and communism , all of which he depicted as tl1e revenge of short-skulled , dark-haired, pre-Arycu1 masses. 12 Tucked into these lines is also a clue to the context in which Nietzsche became concerned with the significance of blond hair. This is the passing mention of RudolfVirchow (1821-1902), a leading anthropologist, physiologist, and patl1ologist of his day, a liberal member of the imperial Reichstag, and a founder of the Berliner Gesellschaft fi.ir Anthropologie, Etllnologie, und Urgeschichte. To appreciate the significcu1ce of the reference, we must go back to 1871, when the dean ofFrench antlu·opologists, Armand de Quatrefages (1810- 92), outraged by atrocities committed in tile Frat1Co-Prussian Wcu· (particularly the bombcu·dment of his own anthropological museum ), wrote a polemical tract arguing that the Prussians were so clearly barbaric tl1ey could not be considered Aryan. Ratl1er, they must be "Siavo-Finns," mat is, the group tl1at the Comte de Gobineau

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Chapte1· Five

Nietzschc,s ((Blond Beast»

(1816-82) identified as the original, pre-Aryan population of Europe and part of the "yellow race." Properly Germanic and Aryan peoples, in Quatrefages's view, were restricted to southern Germany. 13 Seeking to refute this on strictly empirical grounds, Virchow tried to organize a craniological survey of the entire German army, testing the "cephalic index" (i.e. , the ratio of the head's height to its width), which Anders Retzius (1796- 1860) had established as the primary test ofthe Aryan race. When th is proved unfeasible, he shifted his attention to another group - schoolchildren - and to another index of racial identity that could be more easily measured. Toward this end, he adopted the proposal of Carl Gustav Carus ( 1789- 1869), who first argued that Aryans could be identified not onl y by dolicocephalic (i.e., long) skulls, but also by their blond hai r and blue eyes. 14 Throughout the 1870s and 1880s Virchow labored, gatherin g information on nearly seven million children throughout Germany and another eight million in Austria, Switzerland, and Belgium. His study was the first time hair color held a salient position in "scientific" studies of race, and he published his results in stages, culminating in a final report to the Royal Prussian Academy of Sciences in 1885, one year before Nietzsche began speaking of the blond beast. 15 His data were scrupulously assembled and provoked considerable discussion . Inter aJia, they showed a greater incidence of blond hai r in the north than in the south and west of Germany, which Virchow took to refi.lte Quatrefages's charges. The incidence of persons with dark hair was higher in all regions than had been anticipated, however, and this Virchow compared with similar distributions in France, attributing dark hair in most instances to "Celtic blood." 16 It was on this last point that Nietzsche, who showed significant interest in questions of race, eugenics, prehistory, and physical anthropology in the 1880s, sought to engage VirchowP Specifically, his views show the influence ofTheodor Poesche's Die Arier ( 1878 ), the o nl y book in his personal library devoted to the Aryan question. 18 Following Cants, Poesche defined Aryans explicitly as "the blond race" (die blonde Race), and he furtl1er maintained that their conquests demonstrated a law of history consonant witl1 the pattern of European colonialism: tl1at is, light races always triumph over tl1eir darker brethren. Beginning from Poesche, Nietzsche developed a maddeningly complex and contrary argument, which at one point o r another challenged aJl whom he engaged in conversation. He tl1us po inted out tl1at Celts, being Aryan, were also blond, which meant, pace Virchow (and pace German national

pride), the dark-haired peoples of Germany ought be considered preAryan, much as Quatrefages asserted. If Nietzsche admired the Aryans, however, it was not for their high level of civilization, as did Quatrefages. Ramer, pace the Frenchman, it was precisely tl1e barbarian qualities of tl1e Aryans-tl1eir exercise of a will to power unconstrained by good and evil-tl1at he most highly val ued. Ancient Germans had such freedom and energy, he argued, but modern Germans did not, having become ever less A.ryan and ever less barbaric. Like Gobineau, he offered a narrative of decadence and regret, and he took the growing numbers of non blond Germans as an indication that, pace Poesche, the darker people were winning. Elsewhere, Nietzsche bad entertained-tl1is ti me, pace Gobineau, Wagner, and the Bayreuth circle-tl1at racial mixture could have beneficial effects. 19 In me passage under consideration, however, his stance was much more unequivocally hostile, as he warned against tl1e renascent pre-Aryans, witl1 their distinctive dark hair, tl1eir attitude of ressentiment, and tl1eir dangerous politics.

As Anacleto Verrecchia and Cristiano Grottanelli have recognized, the translation tl1at fell into Nietzsche's hands was the 1876 edition of Louis Jacolliot ( 1837- 90).22 In contrast to the pioneering version of Sir William

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III Some months after completing On the Genealogy of Morals, Nietzsche discovered the LaJVs of Manu (Maniiva Dharmasiistra), an ancient Indian treatise on ethics, religion, and social structme tl1at excited him greatly.20 In a letter of31 May 1888 to Peter Gast, he waxed enthusiastic. I owe to these last weeks a very important lesson: I found Mantt )s book of laws in a French translation done in India under strict supervision from the most eminent priests and scholars there. This absol utely Aryan work, a priestly codex of morality based on tl1e Vedas, on tl1e idea of caste and very ancient tradition-not pessimistic, albeit very sacerdotal-supplements my views on religion in me most remarkable way. I confess to having the impression that everything else tl1at we have by way of moral lawgiving seems to me an imitation and even a caricann·e of it-preeminently, Egypticism does; but even Plato seems to me in all the main points simply to have been well instructed by a Brahmin. It makes the Jews look like a C handala race which learns fro m its masters the principles of making a priestly caste tl1e master which organizes a people. 21

Chapw· Fi11e

Nietzsche)s «Blond Beast»

Jones (1794) and aU subsequent translations, this curious work was based on Tamil rather than Sanskrit texts, which Jaco lliot- following the southern pandits with whom he studied-mistakenly took to be the most ancient and authentic. His copious notes also develop an extravagantly idiosyncratic argument, which unfolds in several stages. Thus, h e idealized the original religion and culture in India and took the caste system to be a secondary development. In his view, tl1e discourse and practices constitutive of caste were fostered by Brahmans and >vere tl1e means through which they assumed direction of civil, political, and religious life, red ucing others to subordinate status. Of tl1ose victimized tl1rough caste, none suffered so much as the outcastes or pariahs termed Cat).<;ialas in Sanskrit, many of whom, he argued , extricated themselves from tl1eir oppressive situation by migrating to tl1e north and west. Different groups of CaJ)<,Hilas tl1us settled in Mesopotamia, where tl1ey became the aJKestors of Babylonians, C haldeans, and all others falsely called "Semites," including tl1e Hebrews, who emigrated a second time from Chaldea to Israel. "Those whom official science calls Semites," Jacolliot preferred to clunk ofas " Indo-Asiatic" peoples. While all tl1e world's peoples originated in India, those of tl1e WestEgyptians and E uropeans-came from the Jugher castes, and for tl1em he reserved the title of "Indo-Em opeans." 23 Although he showed sympathy for the Cai)Qalas oflndia, his attitude toward their expatriate descendants was much more condescending, even contemptuous at times. Nowhere was tl1is u·uer tl1a11 in h is treatment of their religion: "The so-called Semites were themselves so much emigrant Cai)Qala slaves tl1at they could never raise themselves above the vulgar conceptions they brought witl1 them from their mother-coun try. T he ignorant CaQ.<;ialas had only seen tile outer manifestations of the Hindu cult tl1at were open to tl1c plebs. Nothing left to us by tl1c ChaldacaJlS, their descendants, suggests tl1at tl1cy had been raised on the philosophical and spiritual beliefs of tl1c bral1mans." 24 Building on, but also significantly modifying, Jacolliot's views, Nietzsche imputed fierce resentment to the Cat).<;ialas and tl1eir desccndaJlts, tl1en went on to differentiate two kinds of moral project, both of which he associated with tl1c instin1tion of caste. T he first of tl1ese he called " breeding" (Zuchtung), and he saw iliis as the task undertaken by tl1c Laws of Manu: the cultivation of human subjects for the four sanctioned castes and the forceful subordination of CaiJQalas. The second , he called "taming" (Zahmtmg) and he associated it witll tl1e reaction of resentful Cal)<;ialas, particularly when they became priests in a system of thei r own making. Relatively ignorant of the Indic data and not terribly interested in th em for

their own sake, Nietzsche appropriated Jacolliot's qu irky views in order to apply them to another example: the way (he imagined) medieval priestsChristians descended from Jews, themselves descended from Chaldaeans, and ultimately from Ca~)<;ialas - broke tile spirit of tl1e ancient Germans.

Compared with such horrors, Manu's system of "breeding" is altogetller preferable: "Here we arc manifestly no longer among animaltamers: a species of human being a hu ndred times more gentle and rational is presupposed even to conceive the plan of such a breeding. One draws a breath of relief when coming o ut of the Christian sick-ho use and dungeon atmosphere into this healthier, higher, wider world. How paltry the 'New Testament' is compared with Manu, how ill it smclls!" 26 Were it not clear already, he renders explicit his view tl1at Manu is the system o f "Aryan humanity, quite pure, quite primordial," 27 while C hristianity, "growing from Jewish roots and comprehensible only as a product of this soil, represents the reaction agai nst that morality of breeding, of race, of privilege [gegen jede Moral der Zuchtung, der R asse, des Privilegiums]- it is the anti-Aryan religion par excellence [die antiarische R eligion par excellence], Christianity, the revaluation of all Aryan values, tl1c victory of Chandala values, the evangel preached to the poor and lowly, tl1c collective rebellion of everyth ing downtrodden, wretched , ill-constituted, under-privileged against the ' race'- undying Chandala revenge as the religion of love." 28 A symbolic universe is constituted in the blond beast discourse from a set of structured, highly prejudicial contrasts, culminating in the opposition of

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To call the taming of an animal its " improve ment" is in our cars almost a joke. Whoever knows what goes on in menageries is doubtful whether the beasts in them are " improved ." T hey arc weakened, they arc made less harmful, they become sickly beasts through the depressive emotion offear, through pain, tllrough injuries, through hunger. -It is no different with the tamed human being who m the priest has "improved." In the early Middle Ages, when tl1c Church was in fact above all a menagerie, one everywhere hunted down the fairest specimens of the "blond beast " [die schonsten Exemplare der »blonden Bestie»]-one "improved," for example, the noble Tcutons [die vornehmen Germanen ]. But what did such a Tcuton after·wards look like when he had been " im proved" and led into a monastery? Like a caricature of a human being, like an abortion: he had become a "sinner," he was in a cage, one had imprisoned him behind nothing but sheer terrifying concepts.25

Chapte1· Fi11c

Nietzsche's rrBlowi. Beast»

C h1·istian and Aryan, the Jew being thematized as a preliminary, imperfect, less powerful, and less dangerous form of the Christian.

petlef Brennecke offered several cogent reasons why one o ught balk at l(aufinann's exculpatory notion that the blond beast was really a lion. 30 first, in nineteenth-century usage, the German adjective blond was typically used for humans and almost never for ani mals. 3 1 Second , the image oftl1e tall, blond, barbaric German was a deeply rooted stereotype in antiquity, and as such was well known to Nietzsche and his contemporaries. p0 esche, for instance, began his description of the Aryans as "the blond race" by invoking the famous fo urth chapter of the Get·mania, where Tacitus wrote as follows: 32

Blond Aryan Military conqueror High Wild beasts O rganizers and Creators Noble Good 1

Dark-haired Pre-Aryan Militarily conquered Low Prey Rabble Chandala Bad

Morally conquered Moral conq ueror Sinners Priests Domesticated animals Animal breakers Those of instincts Those of 1'essentiment Evil Good 2 Laws of Manu : New Testament Breeding Taming Aryan religion : Christianity Here, as at other points in his later writi ngs, N ietzsche seems to have modified the attitude he showed in §9 of The Birth of Tragedy, which I discussed in chapter 3, all the while that he retained the structure and many details of th e analysis he developed there. This shift- which, like many things in Nietzsche, is less than clear and less than consistent - has occasioned m uch discussion. 29 Personall y, I understand him to have arrived at a position of anti-anti-Semitism, but one that was hardly tolerant or irenic. Antipathy toward the Jews and Judaism was attenuated somewhat and balanced by a g rowi ng, if also occasionally grud ging, respect. More important, he came to be infinitely more critical of Christianity than ofJudaism , and he saved some of his most scathing contempt for those ( like Wagner, Bernhard Forster, and others of the Bayreuth circle) who were only antiSemites in the narrowest sense, that is, Christians who failed to realize that everything wrong in Judaism was amplified and exacerbated in C hristianity.

Myself, I accede to the views of those who judge that the peoples ofGermania were tainted by no marriages with th ose of other nations, but remain their own unmixed kinship group, similar only to itself. As a resu lt, the characteristic appearance of their bodies is the same for all, insofar as one can speak about so numerous a people: fierce blue eyes, red hair, large and strong bodies, much given to impetuosity. Their endurance for labor and hard work is not the same, and they are little able to tolerate dryness and heat, but tl1e climate of their zone h as accustomed tl1em to cold and hunger. 33 As we saw in chapter 3, nationalists and prC?tonationalists in tl1e nortl1 showed keen interest in the Germania from the moment it was recovered and pu blished. T he givens of this passage tl1ereafter played a central role in all su bsequent attempts to construct a model of Germa n ethnic purity and beauty, up to the Nazis and beyond.34 One sees this as early as Conrad Celtis's Germaniageneralis of 1500. This race, un conquered, remains most famed in all the world .. . Indigenous, no o tl1er race is more primordial ... T heir chests are huge, as are the limbs of tl1eir bodies, Prodigious nature gave them mi lky necks Lifting their white bodies with tl1eir huge li mbs. Gold is their hair, and their eyes shine with a golden color. 35

I f we can concl ude that Nietzsche's blond beast passages showed less antiSemitism (of a conventional sort) th an the Nazis believed , this hardly renders innocent his thematization of the blond. I n an important article,

Such paeans made tl1eir way down to Nietzsche's era (and beyond), but notwitl1standing tl1e autl1o rity later authors accorded to Tacitus's remarks, these could not have been based on direct observatio n, for tl1e Ro man historian bad relatively little opportunity to observe tl1e Germans. Moreover, as Eduard Norden first recognized, th e physiological description that appears in Germania 4 so closely resembles certain o ther portraits found in Greco-Roman ethnographies, it is li kely tl1at it redeploys stock fo rmu -

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IV

Chapter Five

Nietzsche's "Blond Beast"

lae.36 Consider, for instance, Herodotus's description of the Boudinoj (4.108) : "The Boudinoi are a great and numerous nation; they are all very blue [eyed] and reddish." 37 Like Tacitus, Herodotus stressed number, uniformity, blue eyes, and redness, but in the Herodotean text the modifier pyrrhos finds no referent, and it is thus unclear whether the Boudinoi were red of hair or ruddy in complexion, although the most common usage favors the former. In fact, we know very little of tl1e Boudinoi, a distant and obscure people about whom tl1e ancient autl1ors were either ignorant or uninterested. Herodotus ( 4.21) makes tl1em one of tl1e nortl1ernmost peoples, dwelling at tl1e border of Europe and Asia, and Poesche tried to associate tl1em with tl1e original Aryan homeland. 38 His concern was to show that the Germans were pure descendants of the blond Aryans ( = Boudinoi) and had migrated from a Nordic home. More likely, as Norden argued, the Germans and Boudinoi were both stereotyped peoples of the north, to whom autl1ors assigned a set of conventional characteristics associated witl1 tl1at locale. Surely, Tacitus does sometl1ing similar in chapter l l of the Agricola, where he identified two different somatotypes among the British population, then invented prehistories that would let him assign them to different geographies and climates. Given their red hair, the Caledonians must come from tl1e north, that is, Germany, he argued, and conversely the dark-faced, curly-haired Silures must come fro m the south, tl1at is, Spain.39

In tl1ese Tacitean and H erodotean texts, light hair and skin were constituted as diagnostic signs of tl1e nortl1, and other sources show that the same qualities could be attributed to many peoples, provided tl1ey dwelt in northern Europe. Moving from west to east, these include the Caledonians, Britons, Gauls, Celts, Germans, Thracians, Getes, Scythians, Melankhlainoi, Sauromatai, and Boudinoi. 40 Nor is this all. Fair hair in these cases co-varied with several otl1er physiological properties. Blue (or blue-green) eyes have already been noted, as has large size. To these we can add a certain bellicosity, but one tl1at is en-

ergetic at first, tl1en quickly falls into torpor. Livy (38.17.1-7) gave tl1e fullest account of tl1is tendency in a speech set in the moutl1 of a Roman commander whose troops face imminent Gaulish attack. The Gauls are foremost among peoples for their reputation in war, he tells them, and he lists tl1eir tall bodies and long red hair (procera corpora, promissae et rutitatae comae) among the things that make tl1em distinctive, along with tl1e war songs, dances, and clatter of arms they use to terrify their opponents. But he warns his men not to panic, for the Romans have learned from experience: "If you can sustain tl1eir first rush, when they pour upon you witl1 their impetuous genius and blind rage, their limbs will run with sweat and lassitude, their arms will waver. When their rage quiets, sun, dust, and thirst prostrate their soft bodies and soft minds, so tl1at you need not even swing your swords agai nst tl1em." 41 T he inherent weakness of soft bodies and soft minds (mollia C01'pora, molles . .. animas) becomes evident when tl1ose bodies begin to run witl1 sweat (Jlttunt sudore). The enemies tl1at lay them low are not Roman legions, but the natural agents that overheat tl1em and dry them out: sun, dust, and thirst (sol pulvis sitis) . All this is reminiscent of the point Tacitus made at tl1e end oftl1e passage with which we started: "[The Germans] are little able to tolerate tl1irst and heat, but the climate of thei r zone has accustomed tl1em to cold and hunger." 4 2 Tacints describes tl1e German climate as "harsh" (asperam caelo, chap. 2 ), damper in tl1e north and west, windier to tl1e soutl1 and east (humidior qua Gallias, vmtosior qua Noricum ac Pannoniam, chap. 5 ). Seemingly, the cold and damp character of the northern environment impresses itself on the bodies of those who live tl1ere, making them vulnerable to the opposite qualities of the hot and dry. When Tacitus attributes a sluggish, phlegmatic character to tl1e Germans and Livy does so for the Gauls, tl1e same medical subtext is implicit in both instances, for according to Hippocratic medicine, phlegm is tl1e cold-dry humor and lassitude results from its surfeit. 4 3 In roughly similar ways, Strabo says that the Britons are taller and less golden haired than tl1e continental Celts but also "more flaccid in tl1eir bodies" (khaunoteroi de tois somasi). 44 The term he uses- lzhaunoteros, the comparative form of khaunos- is fairly technical and appears most often in medical texts, where it marks a sponginess or porous character of tissues that makes them prone to absorb moisture and tl1erefore soft, weak, and languid. 4 5 The Celts themselves had a similar reputation , for Diodorus

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113

Caledonians [Straight] red hair [Fair skin] Large limbs North Germany

Silures Dark curly hair Dark skin [Smaller stature] South Spain

Chapter Fi11C

Nietzsche)s "Blond Beast»

Siculus says thei r bodies are tall, their hair golden, and their flesh white but also "extremely wet" (kathugroi). 46 These qualities result from d1e normern climate, which Diodorus describes as exceedingly cold and filled wid1 icy moistureY So too, the Scyduans' bodies were known for d1eir "moistness and enervation" (h):grotetos kai atonies). 48 And ifd1e dampness of ilieir climate produced d1is state, its cold was equally responsible for d1eir coloration. T hus, the Pseudo-Hi ppocratic treatise On Airs) Waters) and Places reports, " d1e Scythian nation is red through d1e cold and not from ilie fierceness of the sun. For d1e whiteness ofd1e cold scorches iliem and produces d1eir red color."49 All of these materials use d1e same theoretical framework to arrive at similar results, as shown in table 5. 1. T heir point of departure is a sense that geography, climate, and physiology co-vary, depending on ilie presence or absence of the elementary qualities hot/cold and moist/dry. Fair hair and/or skin, limpid eyes, large, flaccid bodies, limited intellect, and temperaments that are rash at first but d1en phlegmatic are ilieorized as ilie corporeal result of d1e elemental qualities cold and moist, which characterize d1e nord1ern quadrant. Nor do we have to content ourselves wiili inferring d1is system, for Viu·uvius rendered it explicit when he sought to explain why o ne o ught build different styles of house in different parts of the globe. 50

as ilieir members are nourished by heat. In conu·ast, bodies born in the north are more fearntl and weak wid1 regard to fever, but resist d1e sword without fear, owing to d1e abundance of d1eir blood. 5 1 The set of associations established in d1is passage is eminently fanuliar and structurally comprehensible to us. It rw1s as follows: North

South + Heat/- Moisture +Fear in battle/- Fear offever Small bodies High voices Dark-colored skin/hair/eyes Scarce blood

- Heat/+ Moistu re - Fear in battle/+ Fear of fever Large bodies Deep voices Light-colored skin/ hair/eyes Abundant blood

These oppositions are carefully structured so iliat a mediating d1ird entity can emerge and claim superiority over boili sets of opposed categories. As the argument continues, Vitruvius asserts iliat the peoples of ilie norili possess great strength but lack the intelligence for strategic planning. Wiili those of d1e soud1 ilie inverse situation obtains. This established, he moves to d1c foreordained conclusion of his exercise in classification. Truly, wid1in the space of d1e whole world and d1e regions of d1e earth, d1c Roman people possess the territory at d1e very middle. For in Italy the people are best balanced in both d1e members of d1eir body and d1e aspects of ilieir mind, for vigor and fortitude. In the same way d1at the planet Jupiter is tempered by running between d1e extreme heat of Mars and d1e extreme cold of Saturn, so Italy, between nord1 and south and tempered by a mixture of bod1 parts, has unsurpassed merits. So, by its su·ategies it holds back d1e su·engd1 of d1e barbarians [to ilie norili], and by its strong hand it contains d1e schen1.ing intellects of iliose to d1e soud1. T hus the divine mind placed ilie city of d1e Roman people in d1e outstanding temperate region, so d1at it could hold imperial power over the world .52

T hese d1ings are to be noted and considered as rooted in d1e natu re of thi ngs, and d1ey may also be observed in the members of people's bodies. For in d1ose places where ilie sun pours ford1 its exhalations moderately, it keeps bodies temperate. But in d1ose places where it runs close, d1e earth flames; burning fiercely, it takes away the due measure of moisture. In conu·ast, in frozen regions, because d1ey are fur from d1e soud1, moisture is not drawn out from people's complexions. Rad1er, d1e dewy air that pours fro m d1e sky into people's bodies makes d1em larger and makes the sound of their voice deeper. In iliis way ilie people of d1e noriliern regions are fed an d are shaped wiili enormous bodies, fair complexions, su·aight red hair, pale blue eyes, and much blood, due to the abu ndance of moisture and d1e cold quality of ilie atmosphere. T hose who are close to d1e southern axis and subject to d1e sun's course have shorter bodies, dark complexions, curly hair, dark eyes, stout legs, and scanty blood, due to the sun's assault. Because of the scarcity of their blood they are more fearful to resist ilie sword , but d1ey sustain heat and fevers wiilio ut fear,

T he blond Germans, it turns out, are neid1er ilie heroes nor d1e beneficiaries of d1e ancient story, but only a foil to other peoples: ilie Romans and, before d1em , d1e Greeks. 53 It \Vas a story based o nly in part on empirical observation, and largely dependent on a theoretical apparatus d1at conditio ned stray perceptions by organizing them in a coherent, satisfying,

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ll5

Table 5 .1 Climate, Physiology, and Character of the Northern Peoples, as Reported in Ancient Ethnographies People Germans

Locus Northwest

Climate Harsh

Strabo 7.1.2

Germans, compared to Celts

Northwest

Cold

Tacitus, Agricola 11

Caledonians =Britons of German descent

Strabo 4 .5.2

Tacitus, Germania 4

Hair or Skin Red hair

Eyes Blue

Body Frame Large and strong

Body Substance Cold and moist, unable to sustain heat and thirst

More golden

Taller

Northwest

Red hair

Large limbs

Britons, compared to Celts

Northwest

Less golden

Taller

Ammianus Marcellinus 15.12.1

Gauls

Northwest

Fair and red

Livy 38.17.1-8

Gauls

Northwest

Long red hair

Tall

Soft and sweaty, vulnerable to sun, dust, thirst

Diodorus Siculus 5.28.1

Celts (Galatai )

North

White skin

Tall

Very wet

Xenophanes, Frag. 16

Thracians

North

Red

Procopius Vandalic War 1.2.2- 4

Goths, Vandals, Visigoths Gepaides; Sauromatai, Melankhlainoi, and Getes

North

White skin, gold hair

Tall

Fair skin, Pale blue straight red hair

Enormous

Wintry, cold and damp

Vitruvius 6.1.3 Barbarians and 6.1.10

North

Cool, abundant moisture

PseudoHippocrates, On Airs, Waters, Places 20

Scythians

Northeast

Cold, open Red to north wind, chilled by ice, snow, and much water

Herodotus 4.108

Boudinoi

Northeast

Red

Character Little endurance for work

Wilder

Spirited

Terrible and wild

Lack intelligence

Eager for quarrels Famed in war, but given to lassitude

Blue

No fear

Moist

Very blue

Intellect

Given to enervation

Soft

Chnptel' Fi11e

Nietzsche>s «Btrmd Beast»

and self-serving fi·amework that was confirmed every time one saw, heard, or talked about a blond, pale, large, rash and/or lethargic northerner, not to mention a southerner possessed of the opposite qualities. In contrast to both of these imaginary extremes, the Romans and Greeks happily constructed themselves as the temperate ideal: 54

filled, be it Semite, Jew, Christian, Slavo-Fin n, Prussian, pre-Aryan, or any other other. The story Nietzsche told about tl1e blond beast consisted of two parts, each emplotted in a differen t genre. The first of these he treated as epic, with touches of ro ugh comedy. It described how two types of people struggled with o ne another at tl1e dawn of time and how one overcame the other by its force and impetuosity, wi nning, inter alia, tl1e right to define itself as "good." The victors can be characterized in many ways, but a prime goal of tl1e narrative is to blur these togetl1er. Thus, the victory of the blond blends into-and can be understood to imply- the victory of the noble, the bold, the Aryan, tl1e male, the warrior, the dolichocepha!, the northern, the joyous of body and spirit, just to mention a few. We can, however, simplify things by summarizing all this in tl1e image of the beast and by offering the following synopsis: Round I of world history goes to the beast. Men who mediate the categories of the human and the mumal conquer those whose identity is situated exclusively in the hu man. Or, to put it schematically,

Middle Latitudes

+ H eat/+Moisturc + Intellect/ +Strength - Fear in battle/ - Fear of fever Proper amount and quality of blood

v Nietzsche's brutish blond beast is thus the descendant of unflattering ancient stereotypes, as is the blond Aryan so dear to Nazis and other racists. Recovering the genealogy of that image and understanding the symbolic structure in which it was originally embedded helps one to view it not just with disgust and indignation but also with ironic laughter. Moreover, it helps one understand how such structures are formed , how they operate, and how pieces torn from them can acq uire lives, senses, and effects of their own. In his writings on the blond beast, Nietzsche-like Vitruvius, TacinJs, and tl1e other ancient autl1ors-proceeded in tl1e manner of LeviStrauss's bricoleur. Drawing on disparate extant materials, he brought into alignment a large set of binary oppositions: hot/cold , high / low, light/ dark, predator/prey, and so on, which he then sought to mediate and resolve within the frame of a mythic narrative. 55 Levi-Strauss understood such narratives as elegant vehicles for speculative reflection - instruments tluough wluch gifted thinkers could conduct thought experiments of dazzling subtlety by posing stark contradictions, then seeking to overcome them. Surely there is some oftl1is in Nietzsche. But I am more inclined to another view of mytl1 and of the structures Levi-Strauss identified , as I will argue in chapter 7. However indispensable binary oppositions may be for tl1e conduct of human thought, tl1ey are also elementary instruments of discrimination. Whenever applied to human subjects-whether directly, obliquely, by inference or implication - they produce hierarchic distinctions. The contrast of raw and cooked , like that of high and low, blond and dark haired, or Aryan and non-Aryan, is not an idle play of categories but a social and political intervention. This is so regardless of tl1e specificity witl1 which the negatively defined category "non-Aryan" happens to be

Nietzsche's resentment of the priests- his resentment of the resen tful - is clear (all-too-clear), as is his desire fo r a tl1ird round of the struggle. Presumably, Zarathustra's Ubermensch is the anticipated hero and victor in this last phase of tl1e story, there em plotted as romance and prophecy. Some, like the Nazis, imagined tl1is figure as a more elevated figure of the beast, and there are passages tl1at permitted them to do so. Their readi ng was wrong, not because it was perverse, abusive, or flat-out erro neous- as some would have it-but because it was partial and distorted, blind to

11 8

119

Animal-men Humans

In the story's second episode, the vanquished regroup, and some of them make it their task to mediate the categories of the divine and the human. Using their characteristic weapons, which consist of discursive and moral constructs, these specialists in the sacred reverse the results of the earlier struggle. In Ro und 2 of world history, priests defeat the beast. Nietzsche treats this as tragedy and scandal, but we can regard it as a simple inversion: Animal-men

X

Humans

God-men Animal-men

Chapter Fi11e

other parts of a contradjctory corpus. In this, it differed little from the readings of tl1ose who have more recently lioni zed N ietzsche for different reasons, stressing his critical, and ignoring his racial, consciousness. My ultimate point in tl1is chapter is not just to remind tl1e amnesiac that Nietzsche's interest in tl1e history and fate of tl1e "Aryan" race was not invented by the Nazis or to warn his overeager entllllsiasts tl1at he must be read critically, in context, and in toto, altl1ough I tl1ink. tl1ese points worth maki ng. More broadly, I have tried to show how he participated in a discourse concerned witl1 "Aryans" and their myth s, which he tried to mrn to novel purposes, challenging tl1ose of people like Wagner and the Bayreuth circle, whom he had come to see as his enemies. At the same time, he remained caught in some of tl1e conventional structures and purposes of tl1at discourse, which used him at least as much as he used it. By making C hristians, more tl1an Jews, the villains of his narrative, N ietzsche gave a subversive tvvist to a familiar bully's story. But by leaving the artificially constructed Aryans in tl1e role of hero, and by imagining - even celebrating - a more lurid violen ce for them than had his predecessors, he undid whatever good he might have accomplished witl1 his otl1er revisions, leaving the bullies more confident and more aggressive than ever.

6

Dumezil's German War God

I As I hope to have shown in earlier chapters, scholarship on mytl1 was caught up in tl1e discourse of "Aryans" fo r most of the nineteen til century, and tllis symbiosis continued into the 1930s and 194 0s, particularly in Germany, witl1 terrible consequences. Since the Second World War, some have worked to reconstitute the study oflndo-E uropean myth (from which the term "Aryan" has now been largely expunged ), and at times tl1ey have met with significant success.' Still, a taint of scandal remains. Articles o n this topic are a mainstay of tawdry racist newsletters and slicker publications of the "New Right," like Alain de Benoist's Nouvelle ecole (1971- ), which offers a narrative of a uniquely " Indo-Eu ropean" heritage and glo ry to threatened Europeans as an explanation of their preeminence and a reason for defending tl1eir borders against racial and culnu·al others. 2 And beyond such predictable, if troubling, appropriations of scho larly discourse, tl1e foremost professional journals and institutions devoted to Indo-European stu dies also give one serious pause. Thus, fro m its inception until October 1998, Etudes indo-europeennes (1982- ) was published by tl1e Instin1t d'etudes indo -europeennes oftl1e University of Lyon, botl1 journal and institute havin g been fou nded by Jean Haudry (1934- ). An excellent linguist , Haudry is also a member of the "Scientific Council " of the National Front of Jean-Marie LePen. In his various writings, Haudry has sustained the old Nazi tl1esis iliat placed tile Indo-European homeland in the Arctic (i.e., tl1e whitest, most Nordic An earlier version of this chapter was published in History ofR eligion 37 ( 1998): 187-208.

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Chapter Six

Dumezil's Ge1·man Wa1· God

place on earth) while also championing counterrevolution, and denouncing the proclamation of the "Droits de Fhomme" (4 August 1789) as the origin of modern decadence.3 Shortly after his retirement, students at Lyon charged tl1at his institute, which included numerous figures associated with t11e National Front, was "an ideological laboratory of the extreme right." The French Ministry ofEducation considered these charges serious enough that it appointed a commission of international experts to investigate, but just before tl1is body was scheduled to make its report, Jean-Paul Allard (1940 - ), Haudry's successor, mooted its work by dissolving me institute and reconstituting it as an association whose status frees it from state supervision (6 October 1998 ). 4 Similarly, tl1e ]oumal of Indo-European Studies (1973- ) is guided by Roger Pearson (1927- ), founder of the Nortl1ern League for Pan-Nordic Friendship and former director of tl1e World Anti-Communist League (a position from which be was, ratl1er incredibly, ousted for extremist excesses).s A man who has been described as "one of the most persistent neeNazis in tl1e world ," 6 "one of tl1e foremost Nazi apologists in America," and "one of tl1e best-connected racialists in the world," 7 Pearson centers his writings on the relation of race, intelligence, and eugenics.8 One of his books announced itself as "based on Professor Hans F. K. Guntl1er's R acial Elements of European Civilization," Giinther (1891- 1968 ) having been the Third Reich's foremost tl1eorist of"racial science." 9 Pearson also arranged for an English edition of Gu nther's work on Indo-European religion, to and in one of his own volumes, he argued to some of the same chilling conclusions as his master: "If a nation with a more advanced, more specialized, or in any way superior set of genes mingles with, instead of exterminating, an inferio r tribe, tl1en it commits racial suicide." 11 Before his involvement with the journal of Indo-European Studies (liES), Pearson was responsible for several interlocking publications of the far right, including Northern World, The Northlander, Folk, The New Patriot, and Western Destiny. Some idea of their editorial. content and quality can be obtained from a promotional blmb written for the first: "The purpose of Northern World is to make Whites aware of their forgotten racial heritage and to cut through tl1e Judaic fog of lies about our origin and the accomplishments of our race and our Western culture." 12 In 1974 Pearson began receiving grants from the Pioneer Fund, which directs its assets to the cause of eugenics and "race betterment." By ilie late 1990s, tl1ese had totaled in excess of $75 0,000. 13 Among tl1e first things he did witl1 iliis money was to establish the Institute for tl1e Study of Man as an um-

brdla organization responsible for publication of tl1e relatively staid JIBS. Shortly tl1ereafter (1978 ), he and his institute assumed responsibility for the Man/lind Quarterly, a journal devoted to notions of human polygenesis and "scientific racism." 14 Although comfortable with the Qua1·terly's general agenda, Pearson quickly transformed its editorial board and content. Within tl1ree years, he had replaced forty of the forty-five editorial advisors assembled by its fou nder (Robert Gayre ofGayre [1907- ]) and increased me nu mber of articles devoted to "Indo-European studies" from 2% (7/361 ) under Gayre to 30% (20/66) in Pearson's first three volumes. This is to say tl1at Gayre's style of racism, designed to show tl1e inferiority of blacks, had been broadened to celebrate the glories ofAryans as well. At present, articles on Indo-European myili sit comfortably cheek by jowl witl1 pieces alleging the intellectual inferiority of Mrican-Americans, which supplied a disproportionately large share of tl1e specious "evidence" from which Richard Herrnstein and Charles Murray concocted the racist analysis of The Bell Curve. IS

One can perceive a hierarchy of prestige and a legitimation strategy in tl1e citation practices of tl1ose who write on Indo-European mytl1, religion, and civilization. Those who publish in tl1e most scurrilous sources fuil to provide footnotes at all, or do so in quite haphazard fashion. T hose whose writings appear in Nouvelle ecole and Mankind Quarterly, however, regularly invoke articles from tl1e more reputable Etudes indo-europeennes and ]IES to establish tl1eir scholarly bona fides. In tl1e latter publications and the very best books, autl1ors tend to base themselves on ilie writings of Georges Dumezil ( 1898-1986) as the firm rock on which all can rest, secure against chaUenge. Dumezil was an entirely different sort of person from Pearson, H audry, and de Benoist, infinitely more intelligent, decent, and much, much less crude. To the best of my knowledge, he had no dealings with Pearson, and over the years he maintained a cautiously ambiguous relation with me two otl1ers, botl1 of whom courted him avidly. 16 In chapter 3, I made brief mention of his early attempts to revitalize the study of Indo-European mytl1, but it is Du mezil's later work that won him virtually universal admiration. A scholar of extraordinary abilities and erudition, he taught in Turkey, Poland, and Sweden (1925-31 ) before returning to France. There, he held a position at t11e Ecole pratique des hautes etudes (1933-39, 194249) before a chair of Indo-European civilizations was created for him at the

122

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II

Chapter Six

College de France (1949 ), and his long, illustrious career was ca~ped by election to the Academic Franr;:aise in 1979, where he was rece1ved by Claude Uvi-Strauss. Among his other gifts, he was master of countless languages: virtually all the Indo-European fam ily, including some of its m~re obscure members (Armenian, Ossetic), as well as most of the Caucasian languages, one of which (Oubykh) he saved from. exti~ction, and a fe~v outliers like Quechua, which he seems to have acquired simply for fun. H1s oeuvre spanned six decades and includes more than fifty books, all of which are marked by extraordinary lucidity, ingenuity, rigor, and intelligence. His accomplishments have won wide acclaim among philologians, hist~rians of religions, and antl1ropologists. 17 Although he always unders~ood lum~e.lf as "un homme de Ia droite," Dumezil presented his work as strictly apohucal, and it powerfully influenced those of all ideological persuas,io.ns, in~luding some on the left, like Michel Foucault, who regarded Dumezil as a lifelong friend, pau·on, and mentor. 18 Even so, Dumezil's work is not without its critics. From the late 1930s until his deatl1, Dumezillabored to demonstrate that Indo-European peoples imagined-and at times instantiated - an ideal social order, in which "three functions" were integrated within a hierarchic system. The first, concerned with sovereignty and tl1e sacred, encompassed disquieting magical figures and more reassuring specialists in law. The second , concerned with physical force, included two types of warrior, one noble and chivalric, the other coarse and brutal. The third ftmction, concerned with abundance, prosperity, and fertility, could be parsed in several fashions: production and reproduction, for example, but also production and consumption, agriculture and herding, or even so specific a distinction as that between herding of cattle and herding of horses. 19 Earlier critics were inclined to focus on details in Dumezil's handling of ancient sources, tl1e scope of his comparative venture, his schematizing tendency, and his insistence that the tripartite pattern distinguished IndoEuropean peoples from all others. 20 Since tl1e early 198.0s, ho"':'~ver, they have been more inclined to call attention to the ideological positJons they perceive in his texts and subtexts, stressing tl1e following points: l. Dumezil's idealization of the Indo-Europeans and their u·ipartite

system; . . . 2. the fact that he introduced his theory of the three fun ctions m publications of 1938- 42, when fascism in various forms was an urgent concern for any Frenchman; 124

3. the resemblance of tl1is system to Mussolini's "corporate society" and the "integral nationalism" of Charles Maurras; 4. his involvement in circles close to Maurras's Action Franfaise. 21 On a fiftl1 poin t, opinions differ. T his is the way one understands Dumezil's attitude toward fascism in its specifically German variety. Whereas Arnaldo Momigliano and Carlo Ginzburg perceived a "sympatl1y for Nazi culture" in Dumezil's Mythes et dieuxdes Germains (1939), Cristiano Grottanelli and I have not stressed tlus line of analysis and argumentation. It is on this last point, however, that Dumezil's defenders have focused discussion, the Parisian journalist Didier Eribon taking the lead. 22 Lacking tl1e competence to evaluate the materials Dumezil studied , but well versed in the details of French academic life, Eribon centers Ius case on tl1e scholarly world in which Dumezi1 participated: " When one reconsu·ucts the intellectual milieu of the 1920s and 1930s, it is striking to see that scholars whose opinions were quite heterogeneous, even opposed, could get along, engage in dialogue and debate, without a political dimension ever intervening in their professional judgment. Undoubtedly this was because they shared an ethic fou nded on a profound commitJnent to the values of research and a determination to keep science apart from the fits and starts of the world outside. T here was then a liberal tradition of the w1iversity and a faith in scientific procedure." 23 However appealing it may be, this picture of a science degagee is hardly credible. 24 Political interests have often figured powerfully in discussions of Indo-European (aka "Aryan") religion and society. This was particularly true in the 1920s, 1930s, and 1940s, not only in Germany-so much is obvious-but also beyond, and some of Dumezil's closest colleagues can be numbered among the worst otfenders. 25 Consider, for instance, the Austrian folklorist Otto Hofler ( 1901- 87), whose work on the religious significance of frenzied martial bands, Kultische Geheimbunde der Germanen (1934), was so extreme that Alfred Rosenberg (1893-1946), Hitler's chief ideologist, tl1ought it made Nazism appear ridiculous. 26 Rosenberg's enmity, however, gained Hofler tl1e support ofHeinrich Himmler (19001945 ), who recruited lum into tl1e SS "Almenerbe" division and secured for him a chair in German philosophy at the University of Munich. No Germanist was more influential on Dumezil than Hofler, nor more closely associated with him throughout Ius career, except the Dutch historian of religions Jan de Vries (1890-1964), whose Altgermanische R eligionsgeschichte (1935-37) remains a model of encyclopedic learning. 27 125

Chapter Six

Dumezit>s Gel'man Wn1· Gorl

Other of de Vries's works are less scrupulo us. Welt ric1' Germanen ( 1934) carries a swastika on its cover and celebrates the race of blue-eyed, blondhaired warriors. Onze voorouders (1942 ) was required reading for Dutch schoolchildren under the occupation and was designed to teach them reverence for the Teutonic ancestors they shared with their German brethren. D e Vries's Germanophilia was both personal and pro fessional. Days after the Nazi conquest, he was one of four university professors who met with the new Reichsko mmissar (the infamous Artm Seyss-Inquart) and o ffered to establish a Nederlandsche Kultuurllame1' that would regulate Dutch arts and learning under the new regime, including censorship functions. Once formed, this institution was run by the German propaganda ministry and had de Vries as its last president. After the war, he was removed from the Dutch university system as a resu lt of his collaboration, and he spent his time revising Altgermanische R eligionsgeschichte (2d ed. , 1957) to give Dumczil 's theories a much more salient position. Also noteworthy is the Swedish Indo-Europeanist Stig Wikander (1908- 83 ), who remained a close thend and made fundamental contributions to Dumezil's thought over a period of five decades. 28 Initially, the two met at Uppsala University, where H o fler and Dumczil both taught (1928- 31 and 1931-33, respectively) while Wikander was preparing his dissertatio n under the direction ofH. S. Nyberg (1889 - 1974 ). All these men were interested in the warrior bands ofAryan peoples, and in the 1930s all were given to right-wing politics. T hus, Wikander helped organize Fri Opposition> a strongly nationalist, anti-Bolshevik publication, often favorable to Hitler and Franco and verging at times on anti-Semitism .29 Hofler, as we have seen, was an enthusiastic Nazi, while Nyberg defined himself as a "radical conservative," and Dumezil was close to the Action Fran~aise. Wikander gratefully acknowledged the influence of his three senior colleagues in his thesis, witl1 tl1e chilling title "Der arische Mannerbund" (1938 ), where he applied Hofler's theories to properly Aryan (i.e., IndoIranian) materials. 30 Altl10ugh his attempt proved highly controversial, at Nyberg's urging the thesis was approved. 31 Then, pursuing H o fler's invitation to collaborate on a history oflndo-European social forms, with particular attention to the Nietzschean theme of the Aryans' role in creating tl1e state,32 Wikander left Sweden fo r a period in Munich, where be sat in on Hofler's " Werewolf-Seminar" 33 and flirted witl1 the idea of preparing an expanded edition of his thesis for publication by tl1e SS A11nenerbe. 34 It was not just tl1ose on the right or those outside France who mixed scholarship and politics. "Did Henri Hubert want to rehabilitate pagan-

ism?" Eribon asks, invoking tl1is prominent member of Durkheim's circle, "Or simply to study it?" 35 As Ivan Strenski has made clear, however, Hubert's interest in pagan antiquity was anything but simple.36 Best known as co-author of tl1e Essai sur le sac7'ifice (where he and Marcel Mauss treated Aryan and Semitic examples witl1 studied evenhandedness),37 Hubert (1872- 1927) was charged with reviewing all books on race fo r UAnnee sociologique. Using this position to advance his views as a socialist, a republican, and a Dreyfusard, he systematically combated all attempts to provide racism and anti-Semitism with scholarly apparatus, language, and legitimacy. Regard ing European prehistor y, his area of special expertise, Hubert advanced a set of provocative theses. First, he saw Celtic civilization as having played a similar foundational role for Europe north of tl1e Mediterranean, as Greece and Rome played for tl1e south. In contrast, he considered the ancient Germans to have been relatively limited in tl1ei r territorial distribution and cul tural influence, suggesting tl1at German cultu re was itselfprofoundly influenced by tl1at of the Celts. Finally, Hubert argued tl1at the Germans were not Indo-Europeans at all. Ratl1er, he took tl1e sound shifts and morphological simplifications tl1at distinguish Germanic from otl1er Indo-European languages as evidence that tl1e Proto-Indo-European Ursprache entered German soil from outside and was powerfu lly transformed by the indigenous, non -Ar ya n popu lation who adopted it tl1ere. These views he made public in a series of lectures at the Ecole du Louvre at a time when French postwar power and confidence were at their height (1923 - 1925). It is difficult not to read these lectures as a paean to French civilization and a stinging rebuke to German nationalism of the viillzisch sort. 38 Although Dumezil was fam iliar with Hubert's work and knew its relevance to his own, he studiously avoided him and refused to attend his lectures. Only when his thesis supervisor, Antoi ne Meillet, insisted he give Hubert a copy of his dissertation, "Le Festin d'immortalitc" (1924 ), did he reluctantly do so. The result was a bitter encounter, in the wake ofwh.ich Dumezil left France, convinced tl1at Hubert's opposition and Meillet's wavering support meant there would be no employment for him at home.39

If Eribon seems naive on tl1e matter of scholarly milieu, he has still done us great service in otl1er ways. In his eagerness to refute Ginzburg and Momigliano, he uncovered evidence tl1at offers a clearer view ofDumezil's

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political opinions th an we ever hoped to possess. T his is the group of pseudonymous articles Dumczil published in two right-wing papers, Candide and Le Jour> upon renu·ning to France after teaching in Turkey and Sweden (the articles date 1933- 35). Writing as "Georges Marcenay," he praised Mussolini's Italy and urged France to align itself with II Duce, so that together they might check the growth of German power. 40 As Eribon rightly concludes, these articles show Dumczil to have been "profascist and antiNazi" in tl10se years. 41 The question is whether he advanced tl1ese views in publications bearing his own name or whether- as Eribon would have it -he " neutralized his political judgments regarding contemporary events, because he was writing works of science." 42 To pursue this question, I propose to consider a very specific and highly charged datum : the novel interpretation D tunezil offered for the god Tyr in his 1940 volume, Mitra- Varuna. 43 Previously, virtually all specialists agreed that Tyr was a god of war,44 as could be seen in the description of him as "boldest and most courageous" of tl1e Old Norse deities,4 5 his epithet " battle god," 46 the Romans' assimilatio n of him to Mars,47 and use of tl1e spear-shaped ru ne that bears his name (j) as a charm for victory. 48 In contrast, Dumezil stressed the sole myth told ofTyr, which Snorri Stllrluson preserved in two variants, tl1e shorter of which reads as follows.

he fulfilled literally while evading its spirit. Citing otl1er myths tl1at connect 66inn's loss of an eye and his knowledge of magic, Dumezil took these tWO deities as a couple - one-eyed magician and one-handed jurist- who defined tl1e two sides of Indo-European sovereignty, as did comparable figures in Roman, Irish, and Indic myths. Throughout tl1e years, this reconstruction of "le manchot et le borgne" (the one-eyed and the one-handed) remained a centerpiece of Du mezil's tl1eory, although he abandoned first the Indic, tl1en tl1e Irish side of his comparison. 50 One tl1Us might raise questions about his use of comparative metl10d, and several scholars have done so. 5 1 At present, however, I prefer to focus on tl1e Germanic evidence and to emphasize some details in Snorri's text. First, Snorri explicitly frames his account as an example of Tyr's courage, not his fidelity or legal acumen.52 Second, in tl1e longer version, he specifies why tl1e gods became frightened by tl1e wolf: "The gods raised the wolf at home, and only Tyr had the courage to go to tl1e wolf and give it food. And when tl1e gods saw how much he grew each day, and all tl1e prophecies said he migh t be destined to do tl1em harm, then tl1ey adopted a plan." 53 Finally, tl1e wolf himself loses a bodily member, complementing tl1e losses suffered by 6oinn and Tyr. "Then tl1e wolf answered: ' It seems to me tl1ere's no renown to be had from that ribbon, even if I tear asunder so ti"tin a band. But if it is made witl1 craft, even though it may seem small, that band won>t come off my foot. ' " 54 These details lead me to see this mytl1, pace Dumezil, as the realization of a familiar sociogonic theme, in which each of the three functions originates from tl1e loss of a body part tl1at encodes tl1e characteristic activity of tl1e people associated witl1 that fu nction while also assigning tl1em a place in a vertical hierarchy. 55 Thus, tl1e loss of an eye gives rise to tl1e top-ranked sovereign function, represented by 6oinn ; tl1e loss of a hand, to tl1e intermediate warrior function, represented by Tyr; and the loss of a foot, to the lowly third function, represented by the Fenris Wolf. Here, the mytl1 derogatorily emphasizes the lower order's propensity for consumption (rather tl1an production), depicting the wolf's appetite and capacity for growtl1 as tl1e tl1reat the gods check witl1 tl1eir defining powers ofn·ickery, magic, and force.

There is a god named Tyr. He is the boldest and most courageous, and he gives much counsel regarding victory in battles. It is good for valiant men to call on him. T here is tl1e expression that he who is "Tyr-valiant" surpasses otl1er men and does not sit arou nd idly. He was so wise that one who is wise is said to be "Tyr-sage." T his is one mark of his boldness: When the gods enticed tl1e Fenris Wolf to let tl1em put the fetter "Gieipnir" on him, the wolf did not trust tl1em to let him tl·ee until they laid Tyr's hand in his moutl1 as a pledge. Then, when the gods would not set hi m loose, he bit Tyr's hand off at tl1e point which is now called tl1e "wolf-point" [i.e., tl1e wrist], and Tyr is one- handed, and is not called a man of peace. 49 T he longer version adds several significant details. First, "Gieipnir " is a magic fetter, fashioned at 66im1's instructions to be delicate in appearance, but enormously strong. This was of interest to D umezil, who understood 6oinn as a master of magic, particularly the power to bind. Conversely, he saw Tyr as a master oflaw, stressing tl1at in this episode Tyr contributed to tl1e gods' success not by any martial powers but by making a contract that

Several other Germanic narratives realize this same tl1eme, though differing in tl1eir details. 56 In place of an eye, one sometimes finds tl1e head or other

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parts thereof; in place o f a hand , the arm; and in place of a foo t, the leg or another part of the lower body. But whenever a character loses an arm or hand , it is a warrior who does so. Consider, for example, the "Saga of Egil One-H and" (Egilssaga einhenda), a fabulous tale composed in Iceland in the th irteenth century. The story begins when a giant captures the saga's hero, shackles his feet , and forces him to tend the giant 's goatsY O ne evening, however, Egil finds a cat, hides it under his clo thes, and brings it back to the giant's cave, where he lets the giant glimpse its eyes and persuades him these are "golden eyes" that let him see at night. Then, when the giant desires these precio us orbs, Egil o ffers to install them if only he is freed from the fetters on his feet. The giant obliges, then submits to brutal surgery: "Egil picked up a do ublebladed dart and thrust it into the giant's eyes so that they fell out and lay o n his cheekbones." 58 And after a struggle, in which he loses an ear and the giant a hand, Egil makes good his escape. Later, Egil battles a second giant and cu ts o ff his biceps, losing his own hand in the process . In the fi nal episode, a dwarf heals Egil's wound and fashions for him a sword-cumprosthesis tl1at lets him fight witl1 unparalleled ski ll. 5 9 Notwithstanding tl1e multiplication of severed mem bers an d possible influence fro m other traditions (Odysseus, N uad u ), the saga's pattern is clear enough. The injury to his feet makes Egil a servant and herdsman, tl1e loss of his hand makes him a warrior, and the giant's desire fo r magical power leads him to lose his eyes.60 Again , tl1ere is the great Anglo-Saxon epic Beowulf, whose three monsters succumb to wounds of different sorts. Grendel's arm is ripped from his shoulder, Grendel 's mother is decapitated, and the dragon is stabbed in the underbelly (niooor hwene). Each wound, moreover, correspo nds to the status of the victor who dealt it, for Beowulf is a warrior champion when he wrenches off Grendel's arm, but the king's adoptive son when he takes tl1e mother's head. Wiglaf, in contrast , is one liegeman among many, an untried youth in his first adventure, when he strikes the dragon's vitals, after Beowulf ( by now a king) struck its head wiili no results. 61 T hese same associations also struct11re the preliminary attacks that prompt each combat. Thus, Grendel devours a soldier " feet and hands" (fet ond fo lma), Grendel's mother tears tl1e head o ff H rotl1gar's foremost noble (aldorpegn), and the dragon's assault is provoked by a servant (peow), who violates the monster's mound and steals a precio us cup.62 T he same pattern is expressed o nce more in the gifts that reward each combat. H rothgar gives Beowu lf warrio r goods-" horses and weapons" (wicga

ond wrepna)- after he has slain Grendel; to these he adds advice about good kings and bad following the victory over Grendel's mother. In con rrast, Wiglafwi ns the dragon's gold, rings, jewels, and treasure. 63 Finally, there is Waltha1'ius) a mi nor epic of tl1e nintl1 or te nth century, written in Latin but based on older Burgundian materials, to which Donald Ward and U do Strutynski have called attention.64 Here o ne fi nds an interesting inversion of tl1e pattern, since it is a king, Guntharius, who loses his leg and the king's liegeman, H agano, who loses an eye, along with his lip and six teeth . The text explains th is reversal, however, telling how GLultharius deserves demotion because greed and weakness made him unwortl1y, and Haga no's bravery and righteousness made hi m the king's superior. Of prime interest to us, however, is the detail that remains constant. Here, as in all otl1er examples, it is the loss of an arm that marks the warrior: Waltl1arius, the champion of the story.65 Not:witl1standing thei r other diffe rences, all tl1ese texts describe how a hierarchic arrangemen t of three functions is inscribed on the body through a set of three wounds. A wound to the head or eye marks tl1ose who are sovereign (by virtue of royalty, sacrality, knowledge, magic, and/or righteousness), a wound to tile ha nd or arm marks those of martial power, and wounds to the lower body mar k low-ranki ng persons, whose appetites for food or wealth may be perceived as ignoble or dangerous and who are reduced to positio ns of servile captivi ty (table 6.1 ). At tl1is point,· an intr iguing question arises. Not only is Tyr's position in the mytl1 of his encounter with the wolf perfectly consistent with the old interpretation of hi m as a war god, but such an interpretation also makes tl
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v Sorting out the moti ves of another is never an easy matter, even under the best of circumstances. What follows is admittedly speculative; still, I do th ink it possible to draw reasonable connections between Georges D umezil's beliefs and commitments, world politics in tl1e late 1930s, and his construction of Tyr as something other than a god of war. Let me begin by considering D umezil's view of 6oinn, a deity whom Alfred Rosenberg, Marti n Ni nck, Carl Jung, and others writing in tl1e rn id- l 930s treated as the inspiring force of the Ge rman nation and tl1e Nazi movement.66 Dumczil first engaged this topic in Mythes et diettx des

Dumezit>s German War God

Table 6.1 Loss of Bodily Members in Five Germanic Narratives

Gylfagirming

25 and 34

Loss of Eye or Head = Sovereign or Magical Power The one-eyed Ooinn directs production of a magical fetter.

Loss of Hand or Arm = Martial Force Tyr, bravest of deities, loses his hand in the wolf's mouth.

Loss of Foot, Leg, or Wound to Lower Body = Production, Consumption and Reproduction The Fenris wolf, whose appetite and growth threaten the gods, is bound by its leg and has a sword placed in its mouth.

Egilssaga einhendr

An oppressive giant seeks to gain magic "golden eyes" but loses his own eyes instead. In a struggle with Egil, he cuts offEgil's ear.

Egil cuts off the giant's hand. Fighting a second giant, he cuts off its biceps and loses his own hand, then obtains a prosthetic hand-sword from a dwarf, which makes him a redoubtable warrior.

Egil has his feet fettered and is fo rced to herd tl1e giant's goats.

Beo111ulf

(a) The king's foremost noble is beheaded by Grendel's mother. (b) Beowulf beheads Grendel's mother. (c) Beowulf is rewarded with advice about kingship

(a) A warrior is eaten by Grendel, "teet and hands."

(a) A servant enters a dragon's lair and steals a precious cup.

(b) Beowulf tears off Grendel's arm. (c) Beowulf is rewarded with horses and weapons.

(b) Wiglaf and Beowulf wound the dragon in the underbelly. (c) Wiglaf gains tl1e dragon's gold, jewels, and treasure.

Waltharius

H agano, the righteous counsellor, loses his eye, lip, and teeth.

Waltharius, the warrior champion, loses his hand in battle.

Gtmtharius, the unworthy, greedy king, loses his leg.

"ijlundarkvioa

The two sons of King Nioao are decapitated. Their heads are turned into cups, their eyes into jewels, and their teeth into a necklace.

Volund is hobbled by having the tendons in his knees cut. He is held captive and forced to make treasures for d1e king.

Germains, published in 1939 but written in 1936, as France anguished over Hitler's rearmament of the Rhineland. When it appeared, French readers, including Marc Bloch, understood it as a genealogical inquiry into German militarism. 67 Dumezil invited this reading, particularly in the book's final chapter, where, after observing that the Romans, Celts, and Indolranians possessed strong and conservative priestly institutions, he argued that tl1e absence of such institutions among me Germans permitted a distinct "slippage" (glissement) in meir mythology, which differentiated tl1em from all otl1er I ndo-European peoples.68

That mythology and mese gods evolved in a military direction. In particular, tl1e sovereign magician Ooinn developed warrior powers tl1at his Indo-European prototype possessed only in embryon ic form .... The "furor" tlut is legitimately attributed to hi m became ever more oriented toward war. King oftl1e gods and god of ilie king, master of runes and patron of priests, it seems he was o nly able to maintain and expand his prestige by transformi ng himselffrom king (rex) and priest (sacerdos) into war-leader (dux), and becoming celestial guarantor of a vague sort of"Teutonic O rder," in which a whole people could find tl1emselves mobilized.69 H ere, Dumezil tried to relieve Indo-Europeans of responsibility for German militarism and to place the blame on me Germans' misguided deviation from proper Indo-European ideals. To that end, he argues mat Germans weakened tl1eir royal and priestly institutions (which Maurassians considered the indispensable fo undation of any well-ordered society), witl1 the result tl1at they were unable to hold the violence of their warrio rs in check. As proof, he points to me head of their pantl1eon : ilie terrifyingly militarized Ooinn, whom he depicts as tl1e mutant spawn of more properly sovereign fo rebears. Going furtl1er, he suggested that ilie "militarization" of German myiliology secured for it a unique fate. In contrast to me Greek, Roman, and Celtic myths, which- having been entrusted to priests-gave way to the Christian conversion, Germanic stories survived in a host of heroic legends that were ready to be reactivated by tl1e romantics, Wagner, and otl1ers.70 As a result, "the Third Reich did not have to create its fundamental mytl1s: perhaps, on the contrary, it was Germanic mythology, resuscitated in m e ni11eteenili century, which gave its fo rm, spirit, and institutions to a Germany whose unprecedented woes had rendered it marvellously malleable. Perhaps it was because he had suffered in tl1e trenches haunted by the ghost 133

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of Siegfried that Adolf Hitler was able to conceive, forge, and practice a Sovereignty such as no German leader had known since the fabu lo us reign of6oinn." 7 1 Throughout Mythes et dieux des Germains, Dumezilused tl1e god 6oinn as a way of thinking and speaking critically about German bellicosity. The "fabulous reign of 6oinn," here associated witl1 Hitler, is anotl1er term in his discourse tl1at needs unpacking. It first appears in his treatment of a story fr?m the first book of Saxo Grammaticus's Gesta Danorttm ( 1.7), where Ooinn goes into exile and is replaced by a certain Mithothyn. During his brief reign, tl1is Mitl1othyn offered a separate sacrifice to each god instead of sacrificing to all in common, as had been 6oinn's practice. 6oinn returned, however, and reversed this reform, much to tl1e people's pleasure. In Mythes et dieux des Germains, Dumezil ratl1er tersely and cryptically suggested that the contrast between 6oinn's rituals and those of Mitl1otllyn reflected political differences between the two,72 but he left tl1is theme undeveloped, preferring to work out a complex set of associations through which he struggled to identify Tyr, U llr, and Mithothyn. 73 In Mitra-Varuna, however, he revisited tl1is question, extrapolating from few data with ever more transparent reference to contemporary politics. By tile end ofhis discussion , the " reign of6oinn" encompasses a host of ills, including a confused egalitarianism, tl1e dynamism of totalitarian economies, a communism tl1at panders to the masses (tl1e socialist side of National Socialism), and a heroic anticapitalist morality. In contrast, tl1e "reign of Mitllotl1yn" stands fo r private property, precisely calibrated compensation, graduated distinctions, tineal inheritan ce, and tl1e rule oflaw. 74 This fantastic construction permitted Dumezil to ofier a structural logic, deep prehistory, and obvious moral for tl1e contemporary situation: whereas all otller Indo-European peoples (even Anglo-Saxons and Scandinavians) had established socioeconomic systems of tl1e Mitl1otl1ynic type, only tl1e continental Germans and Slavs- tllat is, the Nazis, Soviets, and tl1eir ancestors- made the mistake of exercising tl1e Odinic option. 75 Published in 1940, Mitra- Varuna was based on Dumezil's 1938-39 lectures on tl1e dual nature of the sovereign function, a concept he appru·ently used to assess and explain the ills of tile world around him. 76 In much of tlus book, he considered Roman and Indic examples cursorily mentioned in Mythes et dieux des Germains while streamlining the earlier book's argument so tllat Tyr eclipsed Mithothyn and tl1e other deities he had auditioned for the part of 6ouu1's antithesis: the reassuring warrior-turnedsovereign who balances tl1e dangerous sovereign -tu rned-warrior. 77

For tllat role, Tyr had a clear advantage over his rivals, since he alone figured in a mytl1- "le manchot et le borgne"-that could be compared with Roman and otl1er materials, tl1ereby anchoru1g tl1e clai m that dual sovereignty has an Indo-European pedigree. Tyr also had a significant drawback, however, for he was widely understood as a god of war: tl1e second, and not tl1e first, of the iliree functions.7 8 If Dumezil wanted to assimilate him to stabilizing and pacific deities of otl1er Indo-European peoples, serious touch-up work was required. This he undertook in two crucial passages of Mitra-lliruna. In tile first, recalling an isolated inscription Frisian troops under Roman command dedicated to Mars Thincsus ("Mars of tl1e Assembly "), Dumezil treated tl1is as evidence tl1at tl1e continental version of Tyr (*Tiwaz) was not so much a warrior god as "the jurist of war, and something of a diplomat." 79 This laid tl1e groundwork for his fuller discussion.

Tyr remains a deity best understood as a god of war. The danger of overcomplicating him, however, is equaled by that of oversimplifying Dumezil, and I do not mean to claim tl1at my treatment has been exhaustive. Hereas elsewhere- tile positions adopted by tl1is extraordinarily learned and subtle scholru· were surely overdetermined. But if one despairs of sorting

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Tyr's action [in bindmg the wolf] is precisely that expected oftl1e jurist god. It is necessary to conclude witll the enemy a pact-cumsnare, witl1 a pledge tllat has been lost from the start: Tyr, alone of all tl1e gods, gives tlus pledge. The wolf is foolish enough to accept tl1e contractual risk of an exchange in which tl1e god's mutilation will compensate him for Ius total defeat: Tyr, tile heroic master of legal maneuver, seizes tlus opportunity.... Previously, we recalled tl1at tl1e *Tiwaz (or Mars Tbincsus) of tl1e continental Germans was god of tile Law ofWar, of war considered as a ju ridical matter. One must calculate bow far tl1is domain extends. ... How far does one commit oneself when one commits? How does one engage tl1e enemy in one of tl1ose treaties that is just as good as an ambush? How does one respect tile letter and betray tl1e spirit of one's oatl1? 80 This passage 'vVas written u1 the immediate aftermatll of Munich, where Chamberlain and Daladier gave up Czechoslovakia for Hitler's promise of "peace in our time." Its closing questions are hardly idle. Thematization of Tyr as a master of legal maneuver ( procedurier heroi'que) clearly provided a way to treat concerns beyond tl1e antiquarian and academic.

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out all he was up to, one can at least dispense with the jejune assertion that his work was scrupulously apolitical. His treatment ofTyr and other Germanic gods involved not just one political subtext, but no fewer than six , which may be recapitulated as follows. l. The AriophileI Germanophobe, French nationalist subtext: Germans are different from and more dangerous than all other Indo-European peoples (65inn as a sovereign distorted toward war). 2. The pacifist/defeatist subtext: It may be possible to maintain peace with Germany. Indeed, it is presumptuous and provocative to assume the worst of Hitler (Tyr as legal sovereign and alternative to Odin).&! 3. The xenophobe subtext: Even peace can be treacherous and u·eaties witl1 Germans or otl1ers (e.g., the Soviets) may be a trap (Tyr as master of legal maneuver and deceiver of the wolf). 8 2 4. The anticommunist subtext: Private property and differentiated status are tl1e foundations of a stable order. Egalitarian and communal experiments, however exciting or popular they may be, cause confusion, disruption, and danger ("Reign of 6oinn," in conu·ast to that of Mithotl1yn). 5. The royalist/Maurassian subtext: An integrated class hierarchy is ideal. Church and king are essential to the maintenance of such an order (Germanic "slippage" and tl1e system of tl1ree functions). 6. The pro-Fascist/anti-Nazi subtext: By preserving good relations with tl1e Vatican and the monarchy, and by holding his blackshirts accountable to a few legal norms, Mussolini avoided Hitler's worst mistakes. Italy under Fascism is a dynamic and well-ordered society, witl1 which France ought align itself and from which the French could learn ti
systematic fashion. Indeed, it is possible to perceive a certain confusion among tl1em, reflecting the contradictory impulses of those on the French right in tl1e late 1930s, whose nationalism made them antagonistic to Germ~n y.~t tl1e.s~me ~me their ideol~gy made them sympathetic to many of Bttler s p~s!Uons. That Dumezil held such views is hard ly surprising, given the Clrcles he frequented during tl1ose years and what we know from his pseudonymous writings. What differentiates him from otl1ers of like opinion is the intricate scholarly code he developed, ilirough which he made tl1e arcane data of Indo-European mythology serve as t11e vehicles for his views, and tl
Not all of tl1ese subtexts are advanced with equal consciousness, clarity, or commitment. Nor are tl1e relations among them worked out in any 136

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7

From the Second World War to the Present (and Possibly a Little Beyond)

I After the end of the Second World War, the center of activity for studies of myth shifted from Germany to France. More specifically, it shifted to the vc section of the Ecole pratique des hautes etudes ("sciences retigieuses"), where Marcel Mauss presided in the prewar years. There, between 1946 and 1949, classes were held by the th ree giants whose works remain the most important theoretical contributions and the most impressive concrete studies of myth that have been produced to this day: Georges DumeziJ (1898-1986), 1 Claude Levi-Strauss (1908 - ),2 and Mircea Eliade (190786).3 Of these, Dumezil was the senior figure, not only by birth but also by virUie of having joined the Ecole pratique first, in 1933. Moreover, he was instrumental in the others' arrival. In 1946, he helped create a spot for Eliade, then an impoverished and relatively unknown refugee, who had decided not to renm1 to Romania after his wartime involvement in the foreign service of its Fascist regime. Two years later, when Levi-Strauss returned to France from the United States and was just beginning to make a major reputation for himself, DumeziJ helped recruit him. In subsequent years, the three men separated . Dumezil and Levi-Strauss joined the College de France, the former in 1949 and the latter in 1959. In 1956, Eliade left for America and the University of Chicago, where he, like they, acquired international fame. Al though there were never close relations between Eliade and LeviAn earlier version of this chapter was fi rst presented at a symposium hosted by the Institute for Greek and Latin Studies ofTroms0 University, Norway (June 1998), on the theme "myth and symbol."

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F1·om the Second 'WOrld War to the Present

Strauss, Dumezil maintained life-long contacts with both men, who consistently held him and his work in high regard. In general, they were bot]1 much mo re influenced by him tl1an he was in reverse. The influence was of ratl1er a difl:erent sort in tl1e two cases, however. Given his middle European origins and his years spent in India, Eliade felt m at certain groups were particularly attuned to tl1e sacrality of tl1e cosmos, which they sensed in tl1eir relations to nature and expressed in tl1eir myths and rituals. In his writings, such groups constitute tl1e ( highly problematic) category of " the archaic," whose chief representatives are ancient India, tl1e Ro manian peasantry, and tl1e " primitive" peoples known to German etl1nography as Naturviilker. In Dumezil, E liade fo und a style of comparison much more rigorous tl1an tl1at which he himself practiced , but one tlut confirmed and justified his sense tl1at Vedic priests and Romanian peasan ts had much in commo n, being heirs to a common "Indo-European" heritage. Dumezil made clear tlu t his Indo-Europeans were a particularly favored people in world history, for they alone discovered tl1e secret of organizing thought and (sometimes) society in a trifunctional structure, which reflects the proper order of nature. 4 If a u·iumphalist subtext enters Dumezil's writings on occasion, Eliade went furtl1er still, identifying a Gegentypus to tl1e cosmic religiosity he associated with Indo-Europeans. T his he found in historic consciousness, which he considered a catasu·ophe for humanity's sense o f the sacred. Its introduction, moreover, he attributed to the H ebrews in the first instance and, in its more recent and virulent forms, to H egel and Marx.5 One senses here a familiar construct: a sharp, discriminatory opposition between Aryans and Semites, or- more precisely- between two groups or styles, one of which is chiefly (but not exclusively) represented by tl1ose now called " Indo-Europeans," and tl1e otl1er o f which has a similar relation to " H ebrews." Within Dumezil's corpus, Eliade was always drawn to tl1e earliest books, particular L e Festin d 1i mmortalite (1924), Ouranos-Varuna (1934 ), and above all, L e Probleme des Centaures (1929 ). H ere, Dumezil drew heavily o n tl1e folkloric tradition of Frazer and Mannhardt and reconstructed (or, ratl1er, imagined ) a world where mytl1ic narratives were ritually repeated in bloody sacrifices, drunken banquets, and the carnivalesque masquerades of cultic bands, who renewed tl1emselves and tl1eir world tl1rough a ritual return to tl1e time of origins. Altl1ough Dumezillater rejected tl1ese books as the undisciplined fantasies o f his youth , Eliade resonated to tl1eir sometimes lurid excitement, in comparison with which he fo und Dumezil's later work rather static and boring.6

Ltvi-Strauss, in contrast, was most impressed by his senior colleague's writings from 1939 o nward, where he developed his meory of the tlu·ee functions. T he tl1eory itself, however, was not of great interest to him, nor were the Indo-Europeans to whom it was atu·ibuted. Ratl1er, he was most concerned witl1 D umezil's methods and sense of system, particularly his insistence that the constituent pieces of a mytl1ology make sense only in relation to one another and that proper comparison is based, not on superficial resemblances between isolated items of data (the name or character of a god in two different cultures or texts, for example), but on patterned relations of contrast that su·ucture the sets in which iliese data are embedded (the organizing logic of two pantl1eons, to continue tl1e example). If one considers tl1e genealogy com1ecting tl1ese scholars' approaches to myth with the older ones I considered in chapter 3 (fig. 7.1 ), it becomes apparent why Levi-Strauss was prepared to make better use of D umezil than was Eliade. 7 H ere, I would stress tl1e romantic, viilkisch1 and O rientalist influences that reached Eliade tl1ro ugh me overlapping mediations of Jung and tl1e esotericists, chiefly Rene Guenon ( 1886 - 1951) and Julius Evola (1898-1974), witl1 whom he maintained long-term relations dating back to tl1e 1920s and 1930s. 8 Given these in fl uences, Eliade resonated to the early Dumezil's attempt to fin d moments of transcendent ecstasy in myth and ritual, a tl1eme D umezil also begueatl1ed to tl1e College de sociologic tl1ro ugh his first doctoral student, Roger Cailiois (19 13-78). 9 In contrast, Levi-Strauss's knowledge of tl1e French u·adition of Durkheim and Mauss oriented him toward Dumezil's mature writings, which stressed sociology ratl1er tl1an folklore o r comparative mytl1ology. 10 Levi-Su·auss's interest in su·uctura.l, rather than historic, linguistics also attuned him to issues of metl1od and tl1eory, while Eliade's O rientalist heritage once more predisposed him to entl1llsiasm for discourse about Indo-E uropeans. In trutl1, Uvi-Su·auss's interest in language both connected and separated him from Dumezil, for tl1eir approaches to linguistics each drew on a different side of Saussure's heritage. For his part, D umezil was committed to tl1e project of historical reconsu·uctio n in the Indo-European domain thatSaussure inherited from Bopp and August Schleicher (1821- 68), tl1en transmitted to Meillet. In contrast , Levi-Strauss was taken with tl1e synclll'onic side of su·uctural linguistics tl1at was Saussure's most original contribution, particularly as it was furtl1er developed by the " Prague school" of N. S. Trubetzkoy (1890- 1938 ) and Roman Jai
142

143

Ft·om the Second lMwld War to the Present

and ought to- be analyzed without reference to the language's prehistory, still less that of the people who spoke it. Such views abruptly displaced t11e project of reconstructing Indo-European from its privileged position in linguistics, which may explain part of tl1eir appeal to Czechs in the 1930s.II For all that Levi-Strauss admired Dumezil-and Emile Benveniste (190276 )-as havi ng anticipated structuralist methods, his own brand of structuralism had noiliing to do witl1 matters "Indo-European. " 12

II

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Witl1 tl1eir works of tl1e 1950s and 1960s, Levi-Strauss and Eliade joined Dumezil as tl1e world's foremost auiliorities on d1e subject of mytl1. Since much has been written about their respective oeuvres, it is not necessary to treat tl1em here in tl1e same kind of detail tl1at figured in earlier chapters. Suffice it to say that each man possessed stumung erudition, wrote graceful prose, published voluminously, and constituted mytl1 in a fash ion tl1at owed more to romanticism than to the Enlightenment, although LeviStrauss and Dumezil departed from ilieir romantic predecessors by insisting on the essential rationality of mythic discourse. Still, in properly romantic fash ion, each man took mytl1 to be an ancient or exotic genre from which modern Ellt·americans might recover sometl1ing of inestimable value. Regarding just what tl1is might be, however, ilie tl1ree differed sharply. For Eliade, it was ilie archaic sense of the sacred; for Levi-Strauss, me elementary structures of the hu man mind; for Dumezil, tl1e tripartite ideology of the Indo-Europeans, which set tl1em apart from all other peoples. Over tl1e comse of tl1eir long and productive careers, each of these scholars attracted a large and enthusiastic readership, botl1 within and beyond the academy. ln the last decade, however, two of tl1em have come in for critical reevaluations, and tl1e critics have not been kind. For his part, Eliade has been accused of using comparative metl1od in an uncontrolled and tendentious fashion to advance botl1 an idiosyncratic tl1eology and political views that date to his involvement with tl1e Romanian Iron Guard during the 1930s and 1940s. 13 In sinlliar fashion, Dumezil, who aligned himself witl1 tl1e Action Franc;:aise in his youth and flirted witl1 tl1e Nouvelle Droite in his later years, has also been charged with weaving fascist ideology into his reconstructions of Indo-European myilis. 14 While neitl1er LeviStrauss's life nor his writings on mytl1 ever occasioned any such heated discussion, the bulk of his work came in for severe criticism by existentialists, Marxists, and poststructuralists, in sequence, all of whom charged him - in

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their own particular idioms- with a disengaged formalism and a synclu-onic orientation that drains mythic narratives (and other aspects of culture) of their historic context and political agency. 15 This criticism took a particularly acute form after the Paris evemments of 1968, when the vogue for his writings cooled abruptly in light of the scornful observation: "structures do not go out in the su-eets." 16 Given tl1e weight of these critiques, none of tl1e models or metl1ods tl1at dominated discussions of mytl1 since 1945 seems compelling, and intellectual activity bas moved elsewhere. Reflecting on this situation (which strikes me as more a luJJ tl1an an impasse), I am forced to conclude that tl1e flaws tl1at have been identified in Eliade's work are real and grievous. Tlus realization has caused me acute pain, and on a strictly personal note, I feel the need to bear witness to tl1e character of a man who was my teacher from 1971 to 1976 and my friend until the time of his deatl1 in 1986. I still admire the breadtl1 of his learning, the sweep of his imagination, and his comparative daring, as well as his modesty, whimsicality, and gentleness of spirit. The kindness and friendship he showed me were particularly remarkable in light of tl1e charges that have been leveled agai nst him. AltllOugh we rarely mentioned it directly, he knew full weU I was of Jewish descent and Marxist inclination, two tlungs tl1at- according to his critics - should have made me tl1e object of his antipathy. I did not know him in the 1930s and 1940s, but my experience makes it impossible for me to believe he harbored anti-Semitic hatreds in lus mature years. This having been said, I see only a limited future for tl1e ki nds of research he pursued. In conu-ast, although I have offered some harsh criticisms of Dumezil and reject tl1at part of his opus that continues tl1e discourse of IndoEuropeans, tl1ere is still much in his writings I find wortl1while. In particular, I would emphasize his rigor, sense of system and structure, his respect for tl1e rationaity of tl1e materials he studied, and Ius explication of a complex classificatory logic encoded in mythic narratives. In all tl1ese regards his work closely resembles that of Levi-Strauss, which I take to be tl1e broadest, deepest, and most challenging of the tl1ree, the best tl1eoretical discussion of myth to date. Pondering the similarities in the writings of tl1ese two men has led me to reflect on their professional relations, the overlapping Parisian milieux in which they u-aveled, tl1eir similarities-as well as tl1eir difl:erences- in temperament and intellectual formation. These ruminations have led me back to one exu-aordinary sentence in Durkheim and Mauss, which I take to have been particularly influential on botl1 Dumezil and Levi-Strauss. This appears toward the end of their essay, Primitive 146

From the Secottd Wot·ld Wat· to the Present

Classificatiorl, where they inu-oduced, but failed to develop, the idea tl1at myth may be understood as taxonomy in narrative form.1 7 While I would hardly insist tl1at tl1is formulation accounts for aUmyths, let alone all aspects of mytl1, I find it terribly suggestive, and I suspect d1at pursuing its implications led to aU tl1at is best in Dumezil and Levi-Strauss alike. What is more, I think it can lead us further still. Like aU Durkheimian formulations, it is relatively unattuned to issues of politics and history. To give it a sharper criticaJ edge, I would introduce an orientation more associated witl1 cultural tl1eorists ti·om Antonio Gramsci to Roland Bartl1es and Pierre Bourdieu. 18 Toward that end, I would begin by noting that taxonomy is hardly a neutral process, since the order established among all that is classified (including items treated only by allusion or implication, and above aU hu man groupings) is luerarchic as well as categoric. This is a point to which Levi-Strauss ought to have been particularly attuned given the extent to which he was influenced by Jakobson's tl1inking on tl1e subject of binary oppositions. Like other linguists of the Prague school, tl1e latter understood such oppositions to depend on tl1e distinction between marked and unmarked categories, and tl1ese were inevitably hierarchic. 19 A sinlliar point could have been taken from Durkheim, who also perceived hierarchy as implicit witl1in all systems of classification, altl1ough he saw these as socially, rather than linguistically determined: "A classification is also a system whose parts are arranged in a hierarchical order. Some are dominant feanu·es, and others are subordinated to those .... T he purpose of a classification is to establish relations of subordination and coordination, and man would not even have thought of ordering his knowledge in tl1at way if he had not already known what a luerarchy is. Neitl1er tl1e panorama of physical nature nor tl1e mechanisms of mental association could possibly give us the idea of it. Hierarchy is exclusively a social tl1ing." 20

Pmsuing tl1ese lines of tl1ought, I am thus inclined to arg11e tl1at when a taxonomy is encoded in mytluc form , tl1e narrative packages a specific, contingent system of discrimination in a particularly attractive and memorable form. What is more, it naturalizes and legitimates it. Myth, tl1en, is not just taxonomy, but ideology in narrative form.

III As an example, let me consider tl1e way gender relations are thematized in tl1e Old Irish epic Tain B6 Ctlalnge (The cattle raid ofCooley) .2' The story begins when Ailill and Medb, the ki ng and queen ofConnaeht, argue over which one oftl1em is nobler and wealth ier tl1an tl1e other. Their bantering 147

Chapter SevC11

From the Second

Wo~·ld

War to the Present

competition takes place against the fact, well known to the text's native audience, that Medb is the most powerfu l of all queens who appear in Irish literature, and Ailill is only o ne of the ma ny men whom she takes sequentially as her husband . Lying in bed , they compare their lineages, which add to the complexity of the problem. Medb, it turns out, is the eldest and most excellent of six children, all daughters, bo rn to the high king of Ireland, while Ailill is the youngest of three sons. His father bequeathed the kingdoms of Leinster and Tara to his two elder sons, leaving Ail ill to acq uire royal status by marrying Medb, who had received Connacht from her father. The story thus juxtaposes a queen whose claim to rulcrship is of a characteristically " male" type (i.e. , b~sed o n patrilineal descent, primogeniture, and personal excellence) with a king whose claim is conversely " female" (i.e. , mediated through marriage). T his co ntrast having been posed , Medb and Ailill make a competitive inventory of their possessions, starting with the least valuable among them (buckets, tubs, pots, and washpails) and building gradually to the most (jewels, gold , and livestock). Item by item, the fortu nes of husban d and wife match each other precisely until, in the very last instan ce, Ailill gains a telling advantage that salvages and reasserts male privilege: "But there was a matchless bull among Ailill's cattle. As a calf it abided among Medb's cattle, and its name was Findbennach. But it would not have been an honor fo r him to have been tl1e property of a woman , so it left and was now among tl1e cattle o f tl1e king." 22 Dismayed, but not yet defeated, Medb thus set out to capture a bull equal or superior to her husband's. T his is tl1e magnificent Donn C(talnge (the D ark Bull of Cooley), and the epic follows her attempt. Countless battles and deeds of heroism fill tl1e Tain as Medb's fo rces try to wrest this beast from the men ofU lster, led by tl1eir champion , C U. C hulainn. Finally, warriors by the tho usands confront one another in a see-saw battle o f unspeakable ferocity, and tension runs high as Medb, having seized tl1e great bull , attempts to make off with it as the fu rious C U. Ch ulainn bears down upon her. At tlus critical moment in tl1e action, the text reports: " It is then tl1at a foul flow of blood came over Medb." 23 H er menstrual period forces her to withdraw from battle, subnut to CU. Chulainn (who declines to ki ll her, not being a "slayer ofwomen" ), and lose the bull. Fergus, Medb's lover and leader of her troops, then pronounces judgment on tl1e disaster: " Fitti ng were the events o f this day for tl1ose who followed a woman." 24 The episode of Medb's menses thus resolves tl1e quarrel with which the story began , establishing-o nce and for all- tl1at Q ueen Medb is not tl1e equal of King Ailill, and the female is not tl1e eq ual of tile male. Where

Altl1ough it seems reasonable to assume that those responsible fo r tlus version of tl1e Ttiin were males com1ected to tl1e province of Ulster, no surviving manuscript anno unces its au thor by name. In tl1is, the Tain is like most mythic texts. Indeed, myth is o ften treated as an anonymous and collective prod uct, in which questions of au thorship are irrelevant. UviStrauss has done tlus in a most sophisticated and challenging fashio n, treating mytl1 as a logical structure that essentially writes itself, variants being tl1e product of an impersonal process whereby that structure explores its own variables until exhausting the available possibilities . Such a view alleviates the frustration of tl1ose who seek authors and " original versions" of mytllical texts, but the price fo r tiUs is unacceptably high, since it drains agency fro m tl1e act of narration. But if we are to treat myth as an ideological and not simply a taxono mic discourse, we will need a more dialectic, eminently political tl1eory of narration, one tl1at recognizes the capacity of narrators to modify details of the stories that pass through tl1em , introducin g changes in the classificatory order as they do so, most often in ways that reflect tl1eir subject position and advance their interests.

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149

freud backed his pronouncement "biology is destiny" with a discourse that claimed tile autl1ority of science, tl1e Tain makes tl1e same point in narrative fasluon. Its story is organized witl1 fiendish care such tl1at Medb's claims to parity are first made plausible, tl1en thoroughly w1done by tile gendered nature of her body. End of discussion and Q .E.D . To accomplish its ends, the Tain does not just differentiate tl1e categories of male and female, or tile otl1ers witll wluch these are brought into association (Ulster and Coru1acht, Donn C(talnge and Finnbenach Ai, etc.). It also ranks tl1ese, and misrepresents the ranking it offers as tl1e product of nature and necessity rather than as a contingent set of human preferences advanced by interested actors, some of whom are responsible for the text. T his misrepresentation of culture as nature is an ideological move characteristic of mytl1, as is the projection of the narrator's ideals, desires, and favored ranking o f categories into a fictive prehistory that purportedly establishes how things are and must be. Otl1er ideological moves frequent in myth incl ude the misrepresentation of a part of some group fo r tl1e whole (e.g., Medb fo r all wo men) the homologization of unrelated categories (men outrank women , just as U lster outranks Connacht an d the Do nn Cualnge outranks Finn benach Ai), and tl1e fictive reconciliation of oppositions and conflicts that are umesolvable in Lived experience. 2 5

IV

From the Second Wot·ld Wat· to the P1·esent

Chapter Seven

Myths are not snapshot representations of stable taxonomies and hierarchies, as functionalists would have it. Rather, the relation between social order and the stories told about it is much looser and-as a result-considerably more dynamic, for this loose fit creates possibilities for rival narrators, who modify aspects of the established order as depicted in prior variants, with consequences that can be far-reaching if and when audiences come to perceive these itu1ovative representations as reality. 26 Skilled narrators can do this subtly or bluntly, in play or dead earnest, and everything in between. In so doing, they use instruments that most often assist in the reproduction of the sociotaxonomic order to recalibrate that order by introducing new categories, eliminating old ones, or revising both categories and the hierarchic orders in which they are organized. Narrators are not the sole agents in such projects of recalibration: One must also take account of reception. Audiences (and fractions of same) can resist narrative and classificatory innovations; moreover, they are perfectly capable of introducing innovations of theit· own by selective hearing and reinterpretation. Anticipation of hostile audience responses can also work as a preemptive brake on narrators' willingness to introduce modifications. Ultimately, what come to be accepted as standard, proper, or hegemonic versions of myths are collective products tl1at have been negotiated between narrators and audiences over time. These form tl1e background against which future narrators craft tl1eir interventions and future audiences judge tl1em. Ideally, one would like to study each variant not only in its relation to aU otl1er variants, but also with attention to tl1e social and historic situation in which each variant made its appearance and found its reception, so that one could get a sense of how it1terplay between narrators and audiences produced narrative iru1ovations, taxonomic modifications, and consequent shifts in tl1e distribution of advantages over the course of time. To put it differently, our task is not finished until we have considered texts, contexts, intertexts, pretexts, subtexts, and consequences. A very tall order, but one that can be rendered operational tluough a fairly straightfonvard protocol, designed for smdents of myth. Although these steps may not be appropriate for all myth.ic texts, given variations in the availability of evidence, for example, they are useful and revealing in enough cases tl1at I tlunk it wortl1while to spell them out. l. Establish tl1e categories at issue it1 tl1e mythic text on which the in-

quiry is focused. Note also tl1e relations among these categories 150

2.

3.

4.

5. 6.

7.

~inclu~ing tl1e ways different categorical sets and subsets are brought mto ahgnment), as well as their ranking relative to one another and the logic used to justify tl1at ranking. Note whether there are any changes in the ranking of categories between tl1e begitming of tl1e narrative and its concl usion. Ascertain tl1e logic used to justify any such shifts. Assemble a set of related materials from tl1e same culture area: otl1er variants of the same story, other closely related stories (on tl1e basis of characters, actions, themes, etc. ), and other texts in which tl1e same categories are at issue. Establish any differences that exist between the categories and rankings tl1at appear in tl1e focal text and tl1ose in these other materials. Establish any connections tl1at exist between the categories tl1at figure in these texts and those which condition tl1e relations of tl1e social groups among whom tl1e texts cit·culate. Establish the date and autl1orship of all texts considered and the circumstances of tl1eir appearance, circulation , and reception. Try to draw reasonable inferences about tl1e interests that are advanced defended, or negotiated through each act of narration . Pay particular ' attention to the way ilie categories constituting tl1e social order are redefined and recalibrated such that certain groups move up and otl1ers move down witlun the extant hierarchy. Remember that to treat poit1ted issues, even in tl1e most manipulative form, is to acknowledge tl1em and to open up possibilities for tl1ose with other interests to advance alternate interpretations and tllematizations. T he enunciation of any mythic variant opens up an arena of struggle and maneuver tl1at can be pursued by those who produce otl1er variants of tl1e mytl1 and otl1er interpretations of tl1e variant.

v As a~ example of what one gains by treating mytl1. in this fashion, let me cons1der Plato's account of tl1e soul's ascent that is found in tl1e Phaedrus (246a-249d, with some continuity through 257d).27 This text has the advantage of being reasonably familiar and of being connected to some fundamental transformations in tl1e history of Western thought, but it also makes for a clear and compelling example of tl1e kinds of processes I take to be characteristic of tl1e mythic genre. It is generally understood to have been written circa 370 B.C.E., before the Timaeus and after tl1e Republic, 151

Chapter Scveu

for it pursues several issues and makes usc of several constructs introduced in the latter text, including aspects of eschatology and the model o f the tripartite soul.28 As we shall see, it also continues the central project of the R epu.blic: the call for rule by philosopher-kings. In this passage, Plato offers a quasi-allegorical account of the soul as a winged chariot, whose driver represents the rational portion th at struggles to control its irrational aspects. These he depicts as a team of ho rses, one strong and noble, but aggressive or "spirited," the other dangerous and unruly, driven by sexual and other appetites. 29 When all is in order, the soulchariot's wings are able to carry it into the highest heavens, but any ta ilings of rational control damage the wings and impede the vehicle's ascent. The degree to which the chariot rises is thus an index of the soul's perfection, and the gods themselves show the way to the top of the skies, driving in a ranked martial order, with Zeus in the lead .30 The zenith is not the end of the journey, however, only its crucial point of transition. Mter passing through the top, the gods pass to the outerside of the celestial vault: the realm of the hyperuranian. H ere, on a grassy meadow (leimon1 248b), whjch is also referred to as the plain of truth (alethias . . . pedion1 248b ), they behold the ideal forms that stand at the core of Platonic philosophy. From this site-and more immediately, from this sight-the rational part of the divine souls take nourishment as if from a pasture while their irratio nal portions feed more conventionally o n nectar and ambrosia. 31 Hu mans also aspire to reach the hyperuranian, but for them the passage is much more difficult.

Fnnn the Second Wol'ld Wm· to the Preseut

harmed. But in the event that it is unable to be drawn along fby a god] and does not sec [any ofd1e forms], th en it will suffer fo rgetful ness and evil. It will become heavy, and having become heavy, the feathers of its wi ngs will molt and it will fall to earth. 32 This loss of wings and fall to earth result in d1e soul's incarnation within a hu man body. Different kinds of souls, however, find their ways into different human for ms, depending on how long they have remained wid1in the hyperu ranian, how much d1ey have seen, and how much they are able to remember, all of which conditio n thei r intellectual and moral quality upon rebirth. The Phaedt·us myth, as has been long recognized , fuses cosmology, eschatology, epistemology, and psychology to theorize the structure of the un iverse, the relation o fli fe and dead1, and the soul's ability to acq uire knowledge. On this last point, however, it is important to recognize the discriminatory nature of Plato's account, which begins with d1e observation that people possess different capacities for knowledge, then treats these as in born, being a function of hypemranian experiences that precede d1e soul's incarnation . A hierarchic ranki ng of souls and incarnations is possible on d1is basis, and Plato works it out wi th evident pleasure. That soul which has seen most [in d1e hyperuranian] will come into birth as a man who is philosophical [lit., "wisdom loving"] o r beauty loving [philollalos], or someone musical and erotic. Second, as a lawful king or warlike ruler; d'lird, as a statesman, or some fi nan cier or businessman; fourd1, as a gymnast, who delights in his toil, or someone who practices healing of the body; fifth, someone who leads a mantic life or has authority over mystery rites. In d1e sixth birth, it will be a poet or some other cobbler of imitations; in the seventh, a craftsman or farmer; in d1e eighth, a sophist or democrat; !n d1e ninth, a tyrant. 33

Such is the life of the gods. Regarding the other souls, that which best follows its god and most resembles him lifts the charioteer's head up to the place beyond. Carried around in the circuit and confused by the horses' clamor, it hardly beholds the realities. It rises and it sinks, and being overpowered by the horses, it sees some things and others not. All the others follow, striving for what is on hjgh , but being unable to reach it d1ey arc carried around benead1 the surface, striking one anod1er and josding each od1er as each tries to achieve its goal. A great clamor arises, along with competition and sweat. Man y are lamed and many wings arc broken by the bad nature of d1e charioteers .... But d1is is d1e law of Retribution [thesmos ... Adrasteias]: Any soul d1at follows its god and beholds any of d1 e truths will be wid1out sorrow through another circui t and if it is always able to do this, it will forever be un-

Several points are worm noting. First and most obvious, there is the location of phjlosophers in d1e paramount position and their identification with true appreciation oflove, beauty, and music. Second , there is the rough treatment accorded to poets (sixd1 position ), consistent wid1 P lato's attacks on poetry in books 2 and 10 of the R epublic; third , d1e way religious aud1ority is handled (i n the fifth position ), to exclude priests and include only seers and those presiding over mystery initiations. Finally, d1ere is d1e shocking degradation of democrats, who are placed in eighth position, just a notch above tyrants. Whereas most Athenians would understand democracy as the an tid1esis of tyranny (a system they fou nd particularly

152

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Chapter Seveu

From the Second Wm·ld Wa1·· to the Present

threateni ng in the 370s), Plato assigns that role to philosophy, with which both tyranny and democracy stand in a polar contrast. When we return to the theme of the soul's fate, once it has fallen into a hu man body, it turns to the task of regaining its wings. This involves a series of rebirths, in which one should live justly (dikaios, 248a) and, if necessary, pay penalties tl1rough punishments w1der tl1e eartl1. T he process is long and difficult for all, but not equally so. Those souls who consistently choose tl1e life of"guileless philosophers or philosophical lovers" need only tl1ree thousand years to accomplish what takes everyone else ten thousand .3 4 T his is because tl1e growth of wings depends on tl1e soul's recollection (anamnesis, 249c) of tl1e ideal forms it beheld in tl1e hyperuranian, and philosophers are tl1ose who have such memory (mnemes, 249c), while others are more subject to forgetfulness (lethe, 248c). 35 T he various argumen ts embedded in Plato's extravagant mythic narrative constitute tl1e following set of associations and oppositions:

affections (252c). The hierarchic series of souls and tl1at of the gods are tl1us brought into alignment, as shown in table 7.1.

Philosophers : Nonphilosophers Ideal forms Mere appearances Truth (aletheia, 249b) Opinion (trophe doxate, 248b) Memory Forgetfulness Closer to heaven Closer to eartl1 Closer to gods Closer to animals 3,000 year cycle 10,000 year cycle Elite minority (oligai, 25 0a) T he rest Plato adds anotl1er set of associations when he correlates the different sorts of souls to tl1e deities tl1ey follow, explaining that people model tl1emselves after tl1eir favorite gods and choose their lovers for resemblance to them (252d) . He does not carry this discussion to completion, however, but treats tl1ree deities only, who are sufficient to mark the limits of tl1e system and to establish tl1e points he cares about most.36 T hus, tl1e souls who follow Zeus-the "great sovereign in heaven" (megas hegemon en ouranoi, 246e)-take lovers who are "philosophic and sovereign" (philosophos te kai hegemonikos, 252e), and followers of Hera prefer tl1ose of a kingly type (basi/ikon, 253b ). Philosophers thus are associated witl1 sovereignty and o utrank kings by as much as Zeus outran ks H era, tl1at is, as much as husbands outrank wives. Followers of Ares-the brutish god of war, who seems associated with the tyrants-are jealous, violent, and even suicidal in their dealings with tl1ose unfortunate enough to be tl1e objects of tl1eir

154

Table 7.1 Rank Ordering of Souls as Given in Phaedrus 248de and T heir Correlation to tl1e Deities They Follow into tl1e H yperura.nian (252c-253b) Rank

Soul

Deity

1 2

Philosophers

Zeus

Kings

Hera

3

Men of aftai rs (statesmen and busin essmen)

4

Specialists of the body (athletes and healers)

5

Religious experts (manti c and telestic)

6

Poets

7

Producers (artisans and farmers)

8

Sophists and democrats

9

Tyrants

Ares

It is difficul t not to perceive the self-interest when a philosopher articulates a model of social hierarchy tl1at has philosophers at its apex . Moreover, we need to recall tl1at in Plato's lifetime the term "philosopher" was not tl1e accepted designator for practitioners of a well-established discipline or profession, but a new and idiosyncratic term, quite possibly a neologism, mrough which Plato distinguished himself and his circle from meir numerous rivals. 37 Michael Morgan's remarks are particularly appropriate. The Platonic dialogues are sufficient testimony by themselves tl1at in the fourth century tl1e terminology for verbal crafts (telthnai) was not yet finn ly fixed. Not only confusion but also appropriation was possible. Sophists, rhapsodes, orators, poets, rhetoricians, philosophers- aU tl1ese and more claimed territorial rights, but t11e boundaries shift and slide. Individuals moved from one domain to anotl1er, clinging to or changi ng titles as tl1ey or others saw fit .... T he Platonic dialogues wri tten during the 380s and 370s plot some of tl1ese movements and expose some of mese conflicts, always reflecting on Plato's developi ng conception of philosophical

155

Chapte1· Se1'en

Ft·om the Second Wo1'ld Wat· to the P1'esent

inquiry and his need to carve out a special domain, strategy, and enterprise for that title to denominate. 38

their birth as plants, fish, and birds being correlated wiili tl1e elements of eartl1, water, and air, respectively. 44 Within each category, different lives were ranked according to tl1eir dignity and purity, birth as a laurel (the plant sacred to Apollo) being highest among plants and as a lion highest among animals. 4 5 A series of human births was expected to complete tl1is process and to culminate in rebirtl1 as a god, whereupon the soul would return to the fiery empyrean. Empedocles maintained tl1at he himself was on the verge of such apotheosis, having completed tl1e human lives he took to be noblest.

One can go furtl1er still. The dialogues did not just "plot" tl1e movemeJ:ts or "expose" ti1e conflicts: they were among the most potent wea~ons wttll which ti1ose conflicts were fought. The discourse through whtch Plato constituted the entity thereafter known as "philosophy" was simultaneously a prescription of method, a claim of paramount privilege, and a sustained polemic against a host of rivals, old and new.

VI Let us now compare Plato's account with t\¥0 earlier texts with whi~h he and his audience were quite familiar. The fil'st is a fragment from Pmdar that Plato himself quoted as the starting point for his earliest discussion of metempsychosis.39 The poem can probably be dated around 476 B.C.E. and set in a Sicilian milieu. 40 Those from whom Persephone [queen of the w1derworld] receives compensation for ancient sorrow She gives tl1eir souls back to the sun In their nintl1 year. From them arise noble kings, Those men swift in strengili and those greatest in wisdom, And for the rest of time ilicy are called tmdefiled heroes in ilie presence of men. 41 Here Pindar identifies iliree types of persons who receive particularly favorable rebirtl1s, constituting them as tl1e set of "undefiled .hero~s" (heroes hagnoi) who stand above tl1e rest of humanity. These a~·e listed 111 what appears to be rank order: kings first, tl1en men ofstr~ngili (t.e., the atl-tletes Pindar celebrated in his poetry), and last, men ofwtsdom, presumably poets and sages. It is also possible, however, to consider the list in rever~e. ~r­ der with ilie wise first and kings last, and the most interesting posstbtltty of ~l is ti1at the text contains intentional ambiguity, such that the poet could claim primacy for himself and his brethren, withm~t offend it:~ their royal patrons, whom he permitted to imagine tl1emselves m tl1e posttton of

Dear friends- you who dwell in tl1e great town on the heights of the city Above golden Acragas, attending to good deeds, Respectfu l havens for strangers, unacquainted with evilGreetings! I go about you as an immortal god, No longer mortal, honored by all, as is fitting, Crowned with fillets and festive garlands. I am worshiped by all tl1ose I encounter, Men and women, as I enter thei r flourishing towns. They follow me, Thousands of them all togetl1er, asking where is the advantageous path . Some have need of tl1e divinatory arts, and some ask to hear The utterance of good healing for all sorts of diseases, Being pierced too long witl1 grievous pains. 4 6 On tl1e verge of godhood, he is still sought for healing and prophecy, and he also implicitly presents himself as a poet by writing in epic verse. A closely related fragment hammers tl1e point home. Toward tl1e end [of tl1e rebirtl1 cycle] souls become seers, poets, healers, And princes among earili-dwelling people. And from tl1is state they shoot up [as] gods, best in honor. 47

honor. Slightly different was the system offered by Empedocles of Acragas (active beween 477 and 432), who offered himself as an example of the process ti1rough which souls endure a lengiliy cy.cle of rebirths to purify,~l~m­ selves for an act of primordial sin. 42 These ltves unfold over some tbtrty ti1ousand seasons" ( = 10,000 years),43 and they traverse ilie cosmic spheres,

Most interesting here is tl1e way Empedocles downgrades royal auiliority, which he lists fourth and for which he uses a slightly unusual term (promoi, "chiefs" or "princes," ratl1er tl1an basileus). Moreover it is the sole incarnation he does not claim for himself, and tl1e ancient biographic tradition tells tl1at he rejected the kingship of Acragas when it was offered to him. 48 On this point, his ranking of human lives was markedly original, as was his. unprecedented view of himself as divine, but in other ways he gives

156

157

F~·om

Chapte1· SeJJ&n

a fairly conventional list of those who would have been regarded as "the masters of truth in archaic Greece," when the technology of writing and the democratic polis had not yet undermined those whose position and authority depended on claims of inspired speech. 49 It thus becomes clear that Plato ratcheted aU the categories most highly regarded by his predecessors down some notches to make room at the top for the new category of philosophers he wished to construct as a dominant elite (fig. 7.2). PIN DAR

1 Kings~ 2 Athletes 3 Those greatest Jn wisdom

EMPEDOCLES

1 MAN-GODS 2 Seers 3 Poets 4 Hea l ers__:::,...._--.,.....=.~--5 Princes

the Second Wol"id War to the Present

losophers did displace poets, seers, and others withi n the hierarchized ranks of intel lect and speech, although they never fulfiiJed his greatest ambitions by acceding to positions of paramow1t political power. Looking closely at his work helps us understand something about the instrumentality of myth and also sharpens our sense of what happened in Greece during the fourth century.

PLATO

1 PHILOSOPHERS 2 Kings 3 Men of affairs 4 Athletes and healers 5 Seers and mystery initiators 6 Poets 7 Producers 8 Sophists and democrats 9 Tyrants

Figure 7.2 Hierarchies of birth in Pindar (c. 476 B.C.E.), Empedocles (c. 432), and Plato (c. 370). With each recali bration of the system, the list becomes longer, a new category is introduced in the paramount position, and others are downgraded to make way for it.

Like Pindar, Empedocles, and probably others, Plato offered a mythic variant on t he theme of metempsychosis that recalibrated the operative taxonomy of human excellence, hoping thereby to reorganize the social order. In its most audacious moment, his myth sought to establish a new elite, demoting o lder ones as necessary and consigning newer rivalsSophists and democrats-to the bottom of the pile. Elsewhere, however, Plato seems much less daring, particularly in the incidental imagery he scattered through his narrative. Although he offered some innovative twists on each, winged chariots,5° heavenly meadows,5 1 three- and ten-thousandyear cycles, 52 " laws of retribution," 53 and contrasts of memory and forgetfulness54 were familiar parts of earlier otherworld accounts. By including them, Plato catered to the traditional expectations of his audience while probing that tradition for strategic possibilities and advantage. Within Plato's lifetime and primarily as the result of his initiatives, phi-

158

159

8

Plutarch's Sibyl

first Sibyl sat , after arriving from Helicon, where she was nurtured b ti . y 1e M uses, " and c.trom ti11.s scat sI1e dedrumed her prophecies ·7 That, 11owever was long before, and standing before this once-sacred, now-abru1doned site, one of d1e characters in d1e dialogue paused briefly to reflect. Sara pion recalled the verses in which the Sibyl sru1g about herself: s Thus, not even after her death would she relinquish the gift of p rophecy, but she would go around in ti1e moon a11d become that which is called its face, and her breati1, mixed with ti1e air, would forever be borne in premonitory sayings. And from her body, transformed in d1e earti1, would spring herbs and grasses, on which the animals destined for sacrifice would pasture. As a result, their organs will come to have all kinds of colors, forms, and qualities d1at give people prognostications of the future. 9

I T. S. Eliot made familiar the heart-wrenching story of how the Cumaean

Sibyl, blessed and cursed with fantastic longevity, grew ever older, frailer, smaller, and more miserable as her body and her Life withered away at an excruciatingly unhurried pace. Pet:ronius-whom ELiot cited -describes how the Sibyl bemoaned her fate, longing for death, her shrunken torso suspended in an ampule, 1 and there were those who believed her wish was granted, for Pausanias relates that his guides at Cumae showed visitors a vessel in which, so they said, were the last remains of the seeress. 2 Other cities also claimed to house these relics, and putative tombs of one Sibyl or another were scattered throughout the ancient Mediterranean. 3 Also common was the story in which the Sibyl simply disappeal'ed after selling a written collection of her prophecies to the last of the Roman kin gs.4 There is, however, another account of the Sibyl's end that is, perhaps, most curious of all. This tradition is attested in Plutarch's De Pythiae oraculis, a dialogue written sometime after 9 5 C.E., which unfolds as the characters walk about d1e grounds at Delphi. 5 At a certain point, the company comes to a large rock situated above d1c Via Sacra to the south of the temple complex, an area d1at in Plutarch's day was believed to have been d1e original site of oracular activity in the area, dating to a fabulous period before Apollo's victory over the Python. 6 Here, according to Plutarch , "d1e

Here, as in many other sources, dead1 is treated as a moment and process in which are dissociated and redistributed d1ose elements which, when united, together constitute a living being. The precise details in which d1at process is imagined, however, are quite complex and extremely interesting. To make sense of d1em, I find it useful to set tius text and its contents within ti1ree interrelated contexts wluch, at the risk of oversimplification, might be called ti1e Eurasian, d1e Sibylline, and the Plutarchan or, alternatively, the cosmogonic, ti1e taxononuc, and the local-propagandistic.

II

An Italian version of this chapter was first presented at a conference, "L"' sibilla c linguc sibillinc" (Mace rata, Italy, Sept. 1994). It was first published as "Sibyllens d0d," Danish trans. by Morten Wasmind, Chaos 30 (Oct. 1998): 27- 42; republished here with permission of the editors.

With regard to ti1e first of ti1ese contexts, I would call attention to ti1e set of myths, widely attested throughout Europe and Asia, in wluch creation follows on the dead1 of some primordial being, whose disarticulated body provides the material substance from which the cosmos is fasluoned. "From Ymir's flesh the earti1 was made, and from his blood the sea," as one Scandinavian version has it. Other variants follow a similar pattern while differing widely in ti1eir particulars.10 In some, for example, d1e victim is a god, in od1ers a demon or a human, a11d sometimes an animal plays tllis part. One ofti1e most famous versions is a11 Iranian account (found in Zad Spram and the Greater Bundahifn ), where creation unfolds from the bodies of ti1e first man and first ox. Treatment of the two is quite different, however, and it is d1e latter which concerns us here, for the post-mortem fate of this a11imal resembles in ways ti1at of the Sibyl. Thus, we are told ti1at in death Evagdad, the primordial ox, was djvided into two portions, one of which was tra11slated to d1e moon, 11 and its body fell to eard1 and

160

16 1

Cha,pte1· Eight

undenvent further transformations: "When the ox Evagdad ctied, because it had the nature and form of plants, the fifty-seven species of grai n and the twelve species of healing plants came into being. From every boctily member they grew.... And every plant which grew from a bodily member causes the growth of that bodily member." 12 Body to earth to plants to body: similar processes are described in the Irish myth of Miach, although t here the source of the plants is a human and not a bovine body. Moreover, the human in question is a specialist, and the nature of his specialization is reflected in the transformations to which his body is subjected. Miach's story (recounted in the Cath Maige Tuiredh and Lebar Gab!tlaErenn) describes a rivalry simultaneously professional and Oedipal, for Miach was the son of Dian Cecht, physician of the gods, and when Miach cured patients whom his father was unable to help, the latter was so outraged that he slew his son with four violent strokes of his sword. After Miach's burial, however, all the species of healing herbs sprang from his corpse. And since each one came from a different part of his body, it had the power to heal the corresponding bodily member of any patient. 13 Both the Irish and Iranian myths posit not just a homologic resemblance but also a relation of consubstantiality between the body and the realm of plants and suggest that matter can be transferred from either of these domains to the other. It is this which permits them to lay the foundations for a "science" (i.e., a rigorously systematic discourse and practice) of healing and one of nutrition, precticated on detailed knowledge of just which plants correspond to just what parts of the body. 14 The two myths differ in the identity they assign to the primordial victim (bovine or human), and Miach's specialist status carries with it several interesting suggestions: first, that the power to heal was lodged within his very body and, second , that healing plants are effective because of their derivation from and consubstantiality with the healer's body. In similar fashion, Plutarch's account represents the Sibyl's prophetic power (mantike)-or part of it, at least-as initially lodged in her body itself, then goes on to describe how, as her body decomposed in the earth, that same prophetic power was transmitted to the herbs and grasses that sprang up from it. In its discussion of the effect these plants have on those who ingest them this story closely resembles, though also differing in certain ways from, its Iranian and Celtic counterparts. For in place of the nondescript, but implicitly human, eater the otl1ers assume, it focuses on what happens when tl1ese plants are eaten by herbivorous animals and , what is more, by animals destined to serve as sacrificial victims (hiera thremmata). 162

Instead of reconstituting the whole bodies of tl1ese select eaters, tl1en, the plants concentrate in their organs (splangkhna), which, as a result, come to possess tl1e prophetic capacity previously contai ned by the Sibyl. The text tllus portrays tl1ese organs as nothing less than microcosmic reincarnations of the sibylline body and powers, thereby explicating the importance of extispicy (the reading of organs) and hepatoscopy (the reading of livers) in me ancient divinatory arts. 15

III In Plutarch's narration, tl1e character Sarapion ctid not tell a story on his own autl1ori ty, but ratl1er he " recalled"-or even "cited"-certain verses (ton epon) tlut he attributed to the Sibyl herself. 16 The passage in which he does tl1is is in prose, however, and not in verse. A charitable reader may take it to be a paraphrase of an earlier sibylline text, noti ng that later authors will also paraphrase this same passageP Those of more skeptical bent may worry whether Plutarch did not simply invent tl1e story himself. We are rescued from tl1is quandary by a fragment preserved in a rather obscure work: Phlegon of Tralles' Peri malzrobion (Concerning tl1e long-lived). Here, Phlegon-a rough contemporary of Plutarch, who was fo nd of collecting marvels-assembled a list of people who had survived past tl1e age of one hundred. 18 Phlegon took most of his examples from census data, 19 but as his culminating example, he described tl1e Erytl1raean Sibyl, who lived (so it was said) to be a thousand. 20 And as his source, Phlegon quoted a poem in wh ich, as she neared tl1at fatal age, the Sibyl foretold her deatl1. Why do I, who am most lamentable, prophesy divine sayings For the sufferings of otl1ers, when I have a fate of raging madness myself? Why do I taste its painful sting, Having come to grievous old age in my tenth century, Raving among mortals, saying tl1ings tl1at are unbelievable, 5 And foreseeing in visio ns all peoples' grievous woes? Envious of my prophetic power, Leta's far-famed son [Apollo], Having filled his destructive heart, Will loose tl1e soul that is fettered in my miserable Body, after shooti ng me with his flesh-smiting missile. l0 Then my soul, once it flies in the air And mingles witl1 breatl1, will send premonitory sayings Entwi ned in dense riddles to mortals' ears. My body will lie shamefully unburied 163

Pluta1·ch's Sibyl

Chapter Eight

On mother earth, for no mortal will sprinkle dirt o n it Or hide it in a tomb. Down the broad paths of the ground My black blood will nm, and will dry up with time. From that , sprouts of many kinds will shoot up, Which, when eaten by grazing animals, will sink to their livers And show the plans of the immortals in prophecies. And winged birds, if they taste my flesh Will convey true prophecy to mortals. 21

15

20

The content of these verses is strikingly similar to that recounted in the Plutarchan text cited above. On the basis of language, style, and content, H. W. Parke argued that these lines were probably the coda to a lost work of sibylline poetry, dating perhaps as early as the third century B.C.E. and known to Phlegon and Plutarch alike. 22 But if th ese are the lines that Plutarch had his character Sarapion "recall," he used them selectively and modified their contents at several specific points.

IV In both Plutarch's and Phlegon's texts may be perceived the attempt not only to trace the fate of the Sibyl but in so doing also to construct something on the order of a unified field theory of d.ivinatory practice. Although advanced in a mythic narrative, that theory is taxonomic in structure and materialist in bent. Essentially, it traces the validity of certain forms of divination (cledonomancy, hepatoscopy, orn.ithomancy) to their origins in the body of the first Sibyl. In this way, it portrays divinatory practices based on precise observation and rational deduction as subordinate to the very different inspired and ecstatic practices of the Sibyl. 23 Further, it correlates the differences between the rational-deductive practices to the parts of the Sibyl's body from which these came and associates them further to d.ifterent forms of life and different levels of the cosmos. Thus, the verses cited by Phlegon offer an initial analysis that resolves the deceased Sibyl into three component parts (lines 9-12): soul (psylzhe), breath (pneuma), and body (soma). A second stage of analysis modifies this somewhat. Soul and breath both enter the air, where they mix with each other (lines ll- 12), and from this mixture come the portentous sayings (Idedonas, singular kledon) that one overhears as if by chance but that disclose the gods' will to those who know how to listen.24 These voices possess revelatory power -so the text argues-precisely because they preserve and consist of the most rarefied components of the Sibyl's body. For this

164

reason, and also because it depends on a certain degree of inspiration rather than training and technical skill, cledonomancy (the interpretation of kledonas) is ranked as the highest form of divination, above those practices in which specialists read revelatory matter that derives from the concrete residues of the Sibyl's body. With regard to the latter, the text describes how her corpse falls to earth and divides into two components (lines 14-21): flesh (sarx) and blood (haima), each of which has difterent fates. Her flesh, eaten by birds, conditions their ilight and habits, from which ornith omancers read the future. 25 Her blood, in a fashion that is now familiar to us, soaks into the ground and nourishes plants on which herbivores feed, then sinks to their livers, where it provides the basis for hepatoscopy (lines 17-20). Beneath its surface narrative, this text establishes relations between four taxonomic modules-one treating the constituent parts of a person, one the levels of the cosmos, one the varieties of living beings, and one the forms of d.ivinatory practice-as listed in figure 8.1. Sibyl's Initial Disarticulation

Soul Spirit

Body

Constituent Parts of the Person

> <

Varieties of Living Beings

Levels of the Cosmos

Forms of Divination

Soul an d . . . d - - Persons - - -- - A ir - - - Cledonomancy spmt m1xe Mediation of . Flesh ----Birds ---earth and air -- Orn1thomancy Blood ___ Herbivores Mediation of and p lants--earth and below-- Hepatoscopy

Figure 8.1 Correlations between the Sibyl's body and the divinatory practices derived fro m it, accordi11g to the verses q uoted by Phlegon ofTralles.

Plutarch proceeds in similar fashion , using nearly identical terminology at many points. In his version , as in Phlegon's, the Sibyl's breath (pneuma) goes to the air and becomes responsible for premonitory sayings (phemais . .. kai kledosin ), while her body (soma), goes to earth, plants, and the organs of sacrificial animals, where it provides the basis for extispicy. In contrast to the verses quoted by Phlegon, however, flesh, blood, and birds are not mentioned in the Plutarchan text, which also includes something quite different from anythi ng found in Phlegon: the Sibyl's assertion that "she would go around in the moon and become that which is called its face." 26

165

Pltttarch's Sibyl

Chapter Eight

Here, one must ask: If the Sibyl's breath and body are committed to other post-mortem fates, which constituent piece of her being is destined for the moon? Intuitively, one leaps to answer "the soul" (psylehe), a term that does not appear but may be implicit in the Plutarchan text. Up to a point, this is fair enough. But one must also note that in several other texts Plutarch spelled out a set of eschatological ideas, following Plato, that were both subtler and more complex tl1an this formulation would allow. 27 Moreover, the single most original aspect of Plutarch's eschatology, as Robert Flaceliere, Yvonne Venuere, and others have recognized, was tl1e role he accorded to tl1e moon. T his is not the place to go into details, particularly si.nce tl1ere are several specialized treatments of tl1e topic. 28 Suffice it to say that for Plutarch, tl1e entity that ascends to tl1e moon after deatl1 is the daimon, which, after a preparatory period, resolves into two parts: tl1e soul (psylehe), which remains on tl1e lunar surface, and tl1e intellect (nous), which ascends to tl1e sun. Finally, Plutarch associated tl1e god Apollo with tl1e sun and tl1e Pytl"tia witl1 the moon, making Apollo tl1e source of the knowledge transmitted tl1rough tl1e Delphic Oracle, just as tl1e sun is the source of light reflected by tl1e moon. 29 T hese relations are charted in figure 8.2.

wiiliin this exercise, and that is its very point. 3° For just as tl1e sky is above the eartl1, tl1e soul more rarefied tl1a11 the body, tl1e gods nobler than the animals, and ru1imals nobler than plants, so also, tl1ese texts implicitly suggest, are some divinatory practices superior to otl1ers, altl1ough tl1e two texts differ somewhat in how they rank tl1em. In tl1e version cited by Phlegon, tl1e system culminates in tl1e homology of soul, ai r, and cledonomancy, the interpretation of premonitory utterances. In all three instru1ces, Plutarch goes one better, setting intellect beyond soul; sun and moon beyond air; Apollo and tl1e Delphic Oracle beyond cledonomancy (fig. 8.3). Phlegon

Plutarch

1 . Cledonomancy--I. Delphic Oracle 2. Ornithomancy - - _ 2. Cledonomancy 3. Hepatoscopy 3. Extispicy

Figure 8.3 Rccalibrat ion of hierarchic relations among fo rms of divination, in Plutarch's revision of the system preserved in Ph.legon ofTralles.

By now, I hope it is clear tl1at beneath its narrative line, the mytl1 of the Sibyl's deatl1 encodes a taxonomy tl1at brings multiple classificatory modules into association. What is more, a hierarchic order is subtly inscribed

Here, it is relevant to recall that Plutru·ch was a priest of Delph i when he wrote De Pythiae oraculis) a text motivated by his desire to defend me dignity and advance tl1e prospects oftlus famous site after a period in wluch it had lost most of its luster. 31 The Delphic Sibyl- if ever tl1ere was one - had long since vanished, the Pytlua no longer spoke in verse, ru1d business, we are told, had slowed to a trickle. Still, Plutarch tells us that in his day, a program of rebuilding had begun, for wluch he took some personal creditY These considerations help us understand why Plutarch was interested in tl1e tale of tl1e Sibyl's death, why he told it as he d id, and how he made use ofilie materials that were available to him. I hope it is clear by now tl1at his text amounts to a reworking of a sibylline story tlut is itself tl1e reworking of an old and widely diffused cosmogonic tradition. That Plutarch did modify certai n details of an extant mytl1ico-taxonomic discourse in such a way as to advance tl1e Delpluc cause may also be perceived in two more details where his version departs from tl1at preserved by Phlegon. First, tl1ere is tl1e question of which Sibyl is described in tl1is myth, for antiquity knew a great many. 33 Plutarch shrewdly avoids commiting hi mself on tills point, but by having his character Sarapion recall her verses while standing at Delphi's "Rock oftl1e Sibyl," he invites one to assume he has tl1e Delphic Sibyl in mind . In contrast , Phlegon states directly and unambiguously wluch

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Sibyl's Initial Disarticulation

Daimon

Constituent Parts of the Person

<

Varieties of Living Beings

Levels of the Cosmos

Forms of Divination

Intellect --Apollo

Suny ,pollo, speaking through the Oracle at Delphi Soul - - - Pythia - - - - - Moon

Spirit - - - - - -- --

Persons - - - Mediation ~f - - Cledonomancy earth and atr

Herbivores Mediation of Hepatoscopy Body - - - - - - - --and plants --earth and below--and extispicy Figure 8 .2 Correlations between the Sibyl's body and the divinatory practices derived from it, according to Plutarch, De Pythiae omculis 398cd.

v

Chapter Eight

Sibyl he describes and what traditions he draws on: "The Eryth1'aean Sibyl lived a few years short of a thousand, as she herself says in these oracular verses" 34 (my emphasis). Second, there is the question of how- more specifically, at whose hand - the Sibyl died. As quoted by Phlegon, the Sibyl foretells she will be killed by Apollo, who envied her prophetic powers (lines 7-10). Other women had similar dealings with this dangerous deity, who gave them the power of oracular speech, expecting sexual favors in return, then turned quite ugly when these were not forthcoming. Best known is the case of Cassandra, whom Apollo desired, inspired, and punished severely when she broke her pro mise to share his bed. First, he ensured she would always be misunderstood o r disbelieved, however perfectly she spoke tl1e trutl1. 35 T hen he sent her to a deatl1 she foresaw, but could not avoid , and viewed as something between murder and sacrifice: an assault simultaneously criminal and divine, for which she held him responsible. 36 Similar is the story of Apollo's dealings witl1 tl1e Cumaean Sibyl, for Ovid tells us that tl1e god offered her a wish as part of his plan of seduction. Naively, she asked for life as long as the number of grains of sand she held in her palm, which-as it turned out-totaled just a thousand. Then Apollo offered eternal youth in exchange for access to her bed, and when she declined , abandoned her to an exquisitely prolonged process of aging. Shrivelled and still virgin after seven hundred years, she anticipates tl1e day she will shrink away to nothing. O r rather, almost nothing, for one part of her will live on forever.

0 Delphians, servants of far-shooting Apollo, I have come to prophesy the mind of aegis-bearing Zeus, Angered as I am with Apollo, my brotl1er.3s Here, tl1e Sibyl states that her prophesy comes directly from Zeus, unmediated by Apollo, with whom she is angry and whom she names as her brotl1er, marking him thus as her equal. Heraclides also says she bore tile name "Artemis," 39 as does Pausanias, who adds that at times she was regarded as Apollo's wife, at others his sister or daughter. 40 Here one perceives either deep confusion or, more likely, the emmciation of a central paradox about whether tl1e Sibyl was tl1e woman most sexually available to the god or for him tl1e one most utterly ofr limits. Plutarch seems to have known most of this, but he suppressed any hint of Apollo's desire, duplicity, antagonism, and responsibility for tl1e Sibyl's suffering and demise, all of which themes tl1reatened his project of promoting tl1e deity, the Pythia, and the Sibyl togetl1er. 41

VI

Delphic traditions suggest similar tensions between Apollo and their Sibyl. T hus, a fragment from Heraclides ofPonms's lost compendium " On oracle centers" (Peri Khresterion) describes the Sibyl as the onJy mortal older than Orpheus and says tl1at she visited Delphi and sang.

As we have seen, Plutarch's intervention reshapes not just tl1e story's surface details but also its underlying structure and import, for it elevates Apollo and Delphi to a position of preeminence among all forms of mantic wisdom, and toward that end it suppresses several troubling episodes tl1at figure in Phlegon's version of the mytl1 and in other related narratives. Essentially, those episodes frame a tl1o ught experiment tl1at tendentiously explores two questions. First, does possession of a powerful o racular voice give a woman sufficient autono my that she can extricate herself from all sexual relations? Second, if she does so, will her condition be equal to tl1at oftl1e gods? The answers given are affirmative in tl1e first instance and negative in the second, where it is argued that her voice alone partakes of immortality. Her body, in contrast, approaches the immortal condition only in quantitative, and not qualitative, terms. Moreover, tl1e degree to which it differs from divinity is given dramatic emphasis in the advancing decay, debility, and melancholy it suffers with each passing day until its enormously long, but emphatically finite, allotted span of time. is finished. In its finale, the narrative pursues these questions still furtl1er, suggesting tl1at altl10ugh absolutely asexual, the Sibyl's body remains fantastically reproductive. This is revealed at her death, when tl1e processes of decomposition scatter her body's constituent parts (some spiritual [daimon, in-

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The time will come when tl1e lengtl1 of days Will make of my body so slight a thing that my members, consumed by old age, Are red uced to minimal weight. I will not seem to have been loved, Nor to have been pleasing to tl1e god. Perhaps Apollo himself Eitl1er will not recognize me or will deny he admired me. Changed , I approach even to this: tl1at I may be borne away, seen by no one. Still, by my voice I will be known. The Fates will leave me my voice. 37

Chapter Eight

tellect, soul, spirit], some corporeal [soma, flesh, and blood]) through varied levels of the cosmos, where they assume different-and differentially ranked-forms, in which her mantic voice and power will endure forever. Telling or listening to the story in any of its variants is a means of exploring a number of issues, including the question of whether women ought desire an independent voice and an independent body, or whether the price is excessive. On the basis of the argument advanced through this myth , few-I suspect-would be inclined to tal<e the plunge. Still, there were some, of whom the virgins who served as Pythia at Delphi were surely the most important. 42 Among its other purposes, Plutarch 's revision of the story was intended to accomplish the contradictory goal of establishing these women as the prime heirs of the fiercely independent Sibyl while subordinating them to the god she defied.

9

Gautrek)s Saga and the Gift Fox

I Although some of those who have written about "the ship as symbol" treat symbols primarily in terms of religious meanings, and understand ships as symbolic chiefly when they occur outside their normal utilitarian contexts (ship burials being a point of particular fascination ), it is my intention to treat this theme in a somewhat broader fashion. Symbolism, it seems to me, is not a matter of religion alone but is a discursive enterprise th at moves in many directions, and ships can figure as items of symbolic discourse whether they be ritual, mythic, or more ordinary crafts of travel, war, and trade. Essentially, I would like to show how ships play a symbolic role of varying sorts in three Old Norse texts, all of which are organized around an opposition of sea and land . Two of these I will treat in summary fashion, and one more extensively. The first is Snorri's account of the misalliance between Njoro and Skaoi. The third of the Aesir is called Njoro. He dwells in heaven at a place called N6atun [Ship town]. He tells the wind when to go forth and he stills the sea and fire. One calls on him fo r fishing and voyages by sea... . Njoro has a wife who is called Skaoi, daughter of the giant T hjazi. Skaoi wanted to have the homestead her father had, wh ich is called Thrym heim, but Njoro wanted to be near the sea. They settled that they should be nine nights in ThrymInitially presented at the conference "The Ship as Symbol in Scandinavian l'rchistory and Middle Ages" (Copenhagen, May 1994) and published in the proceedings, Ole Crumlin Pcdersen and Birgitte Munch-Thye, eds., 'The Ship as Symbol itt Prehistot·ic and Medieval Sca11· dittavia (Copenhagen: Danish National Museum , 1995), pp. 25-33. Reprinted here with permission of the edito rs.

170

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Gautrek's Saga and the Gift Fox

heim and then another nine at N6at6n. But when Njoro came back to N6at:lm from the mountains, he said this:

of "Frost" [Frosti], who was father of "Snow tl1e Old" [Snaer]. His son was called "January" [Thorri]. He had two sons, one called N6r and the other G6r. His daughter was called "February" [Goi]. "January" was a great sacrificer. He sacrificed each year at midwinter, and they called that the "January sacrifice" [T horrabl6t]. The month took its name from tl1at. It happened one winter at the January sacrifice that "February" disappeared. A search party went after her, bu t she was not found . And when a month had passed, "January" performed a sacrifice, sacrificing for iliis: tl1at they might learn where "February" had come to rest. They called that the "Februaty sacrifice." But still they knew no more about her. Three winters later, the brothers made a vow that they would search for her, and tl1ey divided tl1e search in this fashion: N6r would search on land, and G6r would search the out-skerries and islands. He traveled by ship. 2

Loathed I the mountains. I stayed as long as Nine full nights. The howls of wolves Seemed bad to me Beside the song of swans. Then Skaoi said this: Sleep I could not At the bed of the sea, For the bird's cry Woke me every morning And came from the wood A seagull. So Skaoi went up to the mountains and dwelt in Thrymheim. She travels about on skis and shoots game with a bow. She is called "Snowshoe goddess" or "Snowshoe deity." 1 As is obvious, tllis text establishes a set of binary oppositions that conu·ast not just Njoro and Skaoi but also sea and land, harbors and mountains, ships and snowshoes, birds of tl1e sea and predators of the forest, fishing and hunting, singing and howling. A contrast between male and female is also drawn, and it is implied that tl1e differences between the sexes can be reconciled through the institution of marriage. T llis resol ution, however, only gives rise to anoilier question: Where to live? And , as the narrative proceeds, the attempt to mediate between matrilocal and pau·ilocal patterns of posU11arital residence fails. Mter nine days by ilie shore and nine in the mountains, all tl1e oppositions are put back in place, Njoro and Skaoi having decided tl1at tl1ey are as incompatible as ships and skis, summer and winter, seagulls and wolves.

In this passage and the genealogy it recounts (fig. 9.1 ), a number of oppositions are introduced, including iliose of fire and water, male and female, Fornjot r ("Ancient Jute") King of Finland and Kvenland

Hler or Jtgir ("Sea")

!

Logi ("Flam e")

6 Kari

6

Frosti ("Frost")

6 6

Sneer

("Snow")

II Similar conu·asts are evident in the Orkneyingasaga) which opens as follows. There was a king named Fornjotr. He ruled over tl1e land which is called Finland and Kvenland, that lies to the east of the gulf which goes toward Gandvik. That is called Helsinga Bay. Fornjou· had three sons. One was called "Ocean" [Hlerr], whom we call "Sea" [IEgir], one "Flame" [Logi], and the third Kari. Kari was father 172

l

G6r (searches by sea)

L&

N6r (searches by land)

Figure 9 .1 Genealogy recounted in Orkneyingasaga 2 . 173

Goi ("February")

Chapter Nim

Gautrek's Saga nn.d the Gift Fox

presence and absence, January and February, land and sea, and the brothers , N6r and G6r, who search for their sister in different ways. Later passages elaborate on this last theme, describing how N6r went north on skis, then turned west and finally south, shooting birds and animals for his food, while G6r sailed south, then west, traveling through the Baltic and the Danish straits, stopping at islands and presumably living on fish. U ltimately the brothers met near Sogn and divided two realms between them, N6r gaining the Scanclinavian mainland he had traversed, G6r taking the islands and seas. 3 To this system of patterned contrasts-sea versus land, ships versus skis, islands versus mainland, fish versus game, south versus north -another set of elements is added in the narrative's conclusion. For when they resumed their quest, N6r journeyed to the Uplands and found the lost sister, who had been abducted by King Hrolf of Bjarg. N6r and Hrolf then met in single combat, but when their duel proved inconclusive, the two decided 4 to make peace and each took the other man's sister for his bride (fig. 9.2 ). The story thus constructs the mainland-which N6r now named for himself ("Nor-way," N6r-vegr)-as a pacified, heterosexual space, where marital exchange makes possible the formation of households and families. In contrast, no wife is given to G6r, who rules as a "sea king" (s.ekonungr)

over a tu rbulent, warlike, and seemingly all-male realm associated with the homosocial experience of shipboard life. Ultimately, however, the text treats Nor's mode of existence as less viable than that of his brother, for the peace and sexuality of his realm lead to an overproduction that is its undoing. Thus we are told , "N6r ru led this real m during his life, and his sons after hi m. They clivided the land among themselves. And so thei r realms began to shrink as the number of kings grew." 5 Soon thereafter, the sons ofN6r and their ever-pettier kingdoms vanish completely from the story. In contrast, without taking a wife, G6r somehow managed to produce two sons: violent, overbearing sea kings themselves, from whom later rulers of the Orkneys-the chief heroes of this saga- are descended.

Norway and Mainland

Islands and sea

6

Thorri ("January")

l

Gor

I

!

Nor

0

Goi ("February")

Hrolf (King of Bjarg)

Sea kings and rulers of the Orkneys

Figure 9.2 Opposition of land and sea, as developed in Orlmeyingasaga 2.

174

III Another text in which the ship figures as a symbol in the organizing opposition of sea and land is Gau.treFs Saga, one of the Legendary Sagas (Fornaldarsogur) composed in the thirteenth or possibly the fourteenth century. 6 The first episode of the saga, which is sometimes referred to as "Gauti's Story" (Gau.ta jJattr), is set in the eighth century. It takes place on land and an extreme form of land at that: the inland marches (merkr) ofWest Gotaland in southern Scanclinavia. In that time the great woods were widely settled, for many men had cleared the marches, which were far from inhabited cou ntry, and tl1.ey build tl1emselves homesteads tl1ere. Some of them had fled from tl1e society of otl1ers as the result of some wrongfu l undertaking; some fled as the result of a personal peculiarity or some adventure. They tl1ought they would be less subject to mockery and ridicu le iftl1ey were far from other men, and so tl1ey lived out tl1eir years such tl1at they met no one else, save those who were along witl1 them. Many had gotten tl1emselves to places far from society, and no one came to visit tl1em, except occasionally when people got lost in tl1e marches and stumbled onto their homes. But no one ever willingly came there. 7

As tilis description makes clear, the marches were understood as an asocial space, lacking even the most ruclimentary fo rms of human relation and commerce. Preclictably, the narrative commences when an outsider- King Gauti, who has strayed while hunting-approaches a house, seeking hospitality. But tl1e owner of the house, appropriately named Skafnart(mgr · d a guest before, and ("P'111CI1penny " or "Ski n fl'mt ") , 1ns never entertame 175

Chapter Nine

he dreads any possible diminution of his household provisions. 8 So he shuns the king, who, undeterred, barges into the house, p lops himself down at the table, helps himself to food, and later that night shares the bed of Snotra, the yow1gest and smartest of the family's three daughters. Early the next morning, Gauti departs, after inviting Snotra to come and see him, along with th e son he expects her to bear. Her father, however-who at no point speaks so much as a word to the king-is less than pleased:9 "When Snotra came ho me, her father was sitting down over his possessions, and he said: 'A great wonder has befallen us. A king has come to our home, eaten up our goods in front of us, and taken that which we are least able to lose. I don't see how we can keep our household together, given our destitution. Therefore, I've gath ered all my possessions and I intend to divide my estate amo ng my sons; then I'll take my wife and slave with me to Valhalla.'" 10 Suicide, we are told, is a well-established practice among these people, for whenever they fear their families are growing too large or their holdings too small, the elders hurl themselves from "Family Rock" (&tte~·­ nisstapi), a steep precipice behind their houses. 11 And after disu-ibuting their wealth among their children, Pinchpenny and his wife take the plunge. Subsequently, however, things go badly for the younger generation. T hus, tl1e eldest couple finds a smudge on their gold, and mistaking this fo r a loss, they follow their parents' example. T he second couple does tl1e same after a bird eats a single sheaf of their grain. This leaves the last couple, Gilling and Snotra, who have bound themselves to chastity lest tl1ey ever have too many mouths to feed. So, when Snotra's pregnancy becomes apparent, Gi.lling, as much bewildered by this turn of events as he is despondent, makes his way to Family Rock. This story forms the first porti.o n of the saga and lays the groundwork for episodes that follow. 12 At tl1e level of narrative, it culminates in tl1e birtl1 of Snotra's baby: Gautrek, an eighth-century Geatish king known from other sources, who ties this to later episodes and gives the saga its name.'3 Thematically, it describes a hyperterrestrial form of existence that will be contrasted to tl1e hypermaritime fo rm that figures in the saga's conclusion.

IV

Gautrek's Saga and the Gift Fox

Ref's Saga." Its story begins on the island ofRennisey, off the Norwegian shore, where a rich farmer lives witl1 his wife and son. The son, Ref-the literal meaning of whose name identifies him as "the fox"-is a classic example of the lazy, lounge-about Ashboy: "When he '~>vas young, Ref lay by tl~e fireplace and bit kindling and the bark off oflogs. He grew remarkably btg, but he never cleansed the dirt from himself, nor did he ever extend his hand to help others. H is father was a very wealtl1y man, and his son's lack of tl-trift and industry pleased him ill. Ref was famo us, not for his wisdom or courage, but because he made himself the laughi ngstock of his brave kinsmen. His father tl1ough t he was unlikely to accomplish anything such as was tl1en desired for other you ng men." 14 Lil(e Pinchpenny, Ref dwells initially in an asocial and nonproductive domain, but one tl1at is comfortable so long as it is static. I n ways, his spatiallocus-on an island, by tl1e fire-stands in contrast to tl1e sea, but it al~o stands in close proximity to it. And unlike Pinch penny, Ref is not permitted to remain witllin this limited arena, for his fatl1er loses patience wi th tl1e boy and boots hi m out of the family home. Before going, Ref demands tlut his father give him a prize ox, whose horns have been inlaid witl1 gold. Then llis adventures begin, witl1 a move to tl1e sea: "He took the fine ox and Jed it to the shore. H e launched a ship and set out for t11e mainland ." IS It: tl1is moment, Ref acqu ires a mobility previously denied llim, and he ~1scs It to make c~ntact with another character who resembles Pinchpenny 111 some ways whde contrasting sharply in otl1ers. This is Earl Neri, famed as tl1e wisest and stingiest of men, whose custom it is to accept no gifts. Even so, Ref offers his prize ox to him. . The ear~ answered: "Haven't you heard tlut I accept no gifts, Since I don t want to repay anytl1ing?" Ref answered: " I've heard of your stinginess, and that one need expect no money in exchange, even if he's given sometl1ing to you. Even so, I want yo u to accept tl1is valuable, and it may be that you 'll give me help witl1 you r words ratl1er tlun money. Let tl1at be my repayment." The earl sa~d: "Given this declaration of yours, I must accept the ox. Come 111 and spend the night here!" 16

If Family Rock is the focal point of"Gauti 's Story"- tl1e most rigid and unyielding point in Pinchpenny's asocial inland world-so conversely are boats the focal point of the saga's final section, which is known as "Gift-

R~f proposes and tl1e earl accepts a curiously modern fo rm of exchange (a patd consultantsllip, if you will ), in which material substance is traded for somet.hing ~1onmaterial: tl1e earl's good advice. Seemingly, tl1is arrangement IS destgned to benefit Earl Neri by permitting him to avoid any en-

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Gautrek's Saga artd the Gift Fox

cumbering obligations. Yet it is Ref who gets the better of the deal, for as the earl soon recognizes (since words are not equivalent to material substance), he must keep giving one piece of advice after another to Ref, whose fortunes mount rapidly. And each time Ref returns to report on his fabulous success, the earl repeats, almost as a refrain: "Still, it's small repayment for d1e ox." 17 The theme of unequal exchange also figures prominendy in the advice Earl Neri gives. Thus, he begins by explaining that his friend and lord, King Gautrek (who has grown to adulthood since we last saw him and has ascended to his fad1er's d-u·one ), is despondent after d1e dead1 of his wife. Each day he sits on her burial mound, where his only pleasure is watching his hawk. By afternoon, however, the bird is exhausted, and so, d1e earl explains, Ref should go to the mound, taking a whetstone wid1 him. 18 Once d1ere, he should wait until the king wishes to d1row something at the bird to rouse it once more, and at d1at precise moment, he should hand Gautrek the stone. The plan succeeds. A grateful Gautrek gives Ref a gold arm ring, and he returns to Earl Neri. T he earl again offers him hospitality for d1e winter, and in d1e spring asks Ref what his plans are. "Sell the ring for money," he replies, but Neri urges him to sail for England and a similar transaction wid1 JElla, d1e English king. Ref is only too happy to oblige.

The next spring, d1e pattern is repeated. Ref dunks of going on a voyage as a merchant or a Viking, but following Earl Neri's counsel, he sets sail for Denmark. Tlus time, his reputation has preceded !lim. Asked by Hrolf Kraki, the Danish king, "Are you called Gift-Ref [ Gjafa-Refr: literally, d1e gift fox)?" he responds: "I've accepted gifts from men, and sometimes given d1em. I'd like to give you d1ese litde dogs, my lord, toged1er with their gear." There follows d1e predictable colloquy.

The king asked who dus man was, and he answered " I am called Ref, and I would like you to accept dus gold ring from me." He laid it on the table before d1e king. The king looked at it and said: "That is a great treasure. Who gave it to you?" Ref answered: " King Gautrek gave me the ring." The king asked: "What did you give him?" Ref answered: "A litde whetstone." The king said: "Great is the generosity of King Gautrek, if he gives gold for stone." 19

"Who gave d1em to yo u?" "King JElla." "What did you give him? " "A gold ring." "Who gave you d1at?" "King Gautrek." "What did you give him?" "A whetstone." "Great is the generosity of King Gautrek, if he gives gold for stone." 21 There also follows d1e predictable result: "In the autumn, Ref got his ship ready. Then ilie king said: 'I've thought how to repay you . You'll receive a ship from me, just as from the king of England, and it will have the best cargo and crew.'" 22 Beyond dus, King Hrolf gives him a splendid helmet and coat of mail, bod1 crafted from red gold. The next spring, after wintering once again wid1 Earl Neri, Ref gives d1e armor to King Olaf, a mighty sea king, who permits him to choose his own counterprestation, just as Neri had foreseen. Following the latter's counsel, Ref asks to borrow Olaf's fleet for a fortnight. And when Ref enters Geatish waters wid1 these eighty ships of war, Neri runs to warn King Gautrek of imminent attack. Mter persuad ing Gautrek to sue for peace, Neri d1en carries out a splendid piece of pseudonegotiation that gives Ref not only Neri's earldom, but Gautrek's only daughter.

v

Mter reflecting, JElla accepts Ref's offer, and makes him his guest d1rough the summer. Upon parting, he gives Ref a magnificent pair of dogs, equipped wid1 golden collars and chains. Nor is dus all. "The king had a ship fitted out and one day he bade Ref go with him. The king said: 'Here is a slup d1at I want to give you, wid1 whatever cargo best suits you and all the men you need. I don't want you to be the passenger of another man any longer, and I want you to go wherever you like. Still, d1is is small beside the way King Gautrek repaid you for d1e whetstone."' 20

mland, in a terrain of lonely forests and perilous crags. It is an asocial, inhospitable, and uncommunicative space where economic practices and values are oriented toward accumulation and the actors' first concern is to prevent any loss. It d1lls is a static world, but its stasis is britde: under its principles of operation, d1e arrival of a single guest can spell disaster. The

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Comparing "Gauti's Story" wid1 "Gift-Ref's Saga" yields a contrast-and ~ system of meaning-that could not be clearer. The former takes place

Chapter Nine

second narrative is quite d ifferent. The action begins on an island and moves by sea to coastal locales in Gotalan d, England, Denmark, and Norway. Mobility and sociability consistently go together, as in the seasonal patterns of visitation and hospitality, as well as the ceremonious greetings and partings, where generous gifts are given and received. Econornic practices center on exchange, which may involve risk but offer tl1e prospect offabulous gains. If meaning is constructed in this set of contrasts, so also are values, as preferences are embedded in it. T hese preferences are not absolute, however, fo r in some ways Ref's ships-and the hypermobility th ey bringare only somewhat less disquieting than the hyperstability ofFamily Rock. This becomes clear when one considers th e action fi·om Gautrek's point of view (or that of otl1er kings), and also when o ne examines Ref's dealings in detail. To begin, we might note tl1e remarkable asymmetry between the gift that initiates each transaction and th e countergift that concludes it, a pattern established when Gautrek returns gold for stone. T hat event, which all recognize to be extraordinary, came about because the shrewd Earl Neri, perceiving that the king's despair harbored economic possibilities, organized a situation in which tl1ese could be maximally exploited. What is more, Neri's genius-a genius more properly attributed to the text itself and to those who developed tl1e practices on which it comments - permitted him to go further and to construct n othing less th an a system for the reproduction of tl1ose same economic advantages in all subsequent transactions. Some of the ways that Neri and Ref accomplish this are obvious enough, and tl1ey mark social and historic changes of enormo us magnitude: tl1e transformation of an exchange economy into one o f mercantile capitalism.23 T hus, tl1ey treat exchanges as the means to extract economic advantage, not to sustain hwnan relations. Accordingly, tl1ey treat their exchange partners as persons who can be dispensed witl1 after a single profitable transaction, not people with whom balance and reciprocity must be maintain ed over ti me. Furilier, iliey treat profit as the capital with which to launch further ventures, not something to be hoarded or squandered in consumption. 24 Beyond this, one should observe that the initial exchange with King Gautrek provides Ref not only witl1 gold but also witl1 a narrative about iliat gold, which he relates to subsequent exchange partners and tl1ereby establishes Gautrek's generosity as th e standard against which tl1ey are to be measured. T hings are thus framed so tl1at Ref is not in direct competi180

Gautrek's Saga and the Gift Fox

tion with any of his exchange partners but provides tl1em wiili a situation in which tl1ey are virntal ly forced to compete witl1 one another under t11e following rule: the higher Ref's profit within an economy of wealtl1 (i.e ., t11e greater the material imbalance between his gift and tl1ei r cou11tergifts ), tl1e less his royal partners stand to lose in an economy of prestige ( i.e., t11e more favorably will their generosity be measured against iliat of Gautrek and other kings).2s The series of transactions reaches its climax when Ref gains the use of Olaf's ships, thereby accomplishing tl1e conversion of wealth into power: more precisely, into the deceptive simulacrum of power, which is shown to work just as well as power itself. It is Ref's borrowed fleet-which is his and not his, a bluff and a joke as much as a tl1reat-tl1at strikes me as ilie polar analogue to Family Rock. For as the utmost representation of mobility, iliis fleet is ilie crucial instrument in ilie transformation of an Ash boy into an earl and an heir to tl1e king. While inspiring, even intoxicating for some, such fairy tales of rags to riches are also disconcerting to otl1ers, who read t11e promise of mobility as a tl1reat and a challenge to their own interests. And so, having unleashed tl1e profOLmdly destabilizing possibilities of incipient capitalism in t11e course of its narrative, tl1e text, in closing, makes a fu1al slapdash effort to contain tl1em, and this il1 two ways. First, it provides Ref wiili a noble genealogy tl1at .legitimates his rise by defuling it as no rise at all. You deserve my earldom, Earl Neri tells him, because-surprise!-your grandfather was an earl. 26 Then, before Ref can exercise any furilier mobility (which is all too likely o nce he has become tl1e son -in-law of a king who has no sons), the text rushes to kill him off: "King Gautrek had a banquet prepared, and Ref married Helga, Ki ng Gautrek's daughter. Along with her, King Gautrek gave him an earl's title, and his valor seemed outstanding to all . H is family was one of high-ran king men, and his father was a great viking and champion. Ref managed this earldom and he died young.27 Gautrek)s Saga tlms constructs a system of meaning by establishing salient oppositions between two of its pans: "Gauti's Story" and "Gift-Ref's Saga." In large measme, th is is organized as a contrast of!and and sea, the inland marches ofPinchpenny and fanlily being opposed to tl1e islands and coastal towns frequented by Ref. The asocial, inhospitable etl1os of the former sphere is juxtaposed to the sociability of t11e latter, and Pinchpenny's insistence on accumulation similarly confronts Ref's practice of exchange. And as the master image ofhyperstability, Family Rock stands in sharp contrast to tl1e hypermobility embodied by Ref's ships. 181

Chapter Nine

d tl . I would argue tllat tile text organizes a comparison of past Beyon u s, d future) 28 Looking back to events of a f Ga~tti and Gautrek, who, like JEIIa and no npast. (i.e., t he presthent .a~ I lf-millenruum before- .e telgns o . . :~d the others, are famous rulers of the eighth c~ntur~-lt descnbes a pre'1 noml·c o rder that it associates wltll Pmchpenny and treats mercantt e eco · . d £; I' h · 'ts o · . h d ' dain even derision, as having been so limited an oo ~~ m I twtt . . IS .·, . I that it ultimately destt·oyed itself. In narratmg the a~­ gamzi~lg p~I~~j ae~d Earl Neri , however, tile text describes a mo~ent 111 ve~tu~::~ething new and dynamic came into being: a world in whiCh vast w c .. ened up as (1) spatial mobility vastly expanded by way of opportunitieS op d 1' s tl1e .. 1 d (2 ) it became possible to tt·eat human ea mgs a manttme trave , an · d 1· · . ends , where previously economiC ea mgsf were · t . ments 0 f economic m~ m . ed in the service of human ends. The result is the world o merorga_ruz . I' . l . h shrewd dealers ever since have scoured tile canttle captta Ism, m w 11C encounter with a variety of I be extracting advantage from tl1ose they . . . go . , . . . orld the text appropriately vtews wtth a mlxman1pulattve sttatagems. a w ture of awe and disquiet.

10

Once Again, the Bovine's Lament In memory of Joan Culianu

I I should like to begin by citing a passage from the Greater Bundahifn) a PahJavi text of the ninth century C.E., that describes a fasci nating postmortem journey tl1rough tl1e celestial regions. Among the prime points of interest is that tllis journey is said to have been made, not by any human or divine agent, but rather by an ailimal: tl1e soul of the Primordial Ox. The text reads as follows. T llis also is said [in tl1e Avesta]: "When tl1e Primordial Ox passed away, it fell on its right side; when Gay6mard [ tl1e Primordial Man ] died, he fell on his left side." T he soul [ruwan] oftl1e Primordial Ox went out fi·om its body and stood before the ox. And as if a hundred men spoke witl1 a single voice, it lamented to tl1e Wise Lord (Ohrmazd), saying: "Who has tl1e leadership ofcreatmes when tl1e earth lies quaking, when tl1e plants are dry, and when tl1e water is afflicted? Where is that man of whom you said: 'I will create !lim so that he will proclaim protection'?." Then Olu·mazd said to him: "You are ill, Ox-soul. You bear tl1e illness of the Evil Spirit [Ahriman], and tl1e malice of tl1e demons. If one could create tl1at man at tl1is time, then tl1ere would not now be tllis oppression from Ahriman." The Ox-soul went forth to the Star Station. He lamented in simiFirst presented at the "Colloque Psychanodia" in honor of loan Culianu (Paris, Sept. 1993) and scheduled to be published in the proceedings of that conference, under the edjtorship of Ara Sismanian.

182

183

Chapter Ten tar fashion . He went to the Moon Station and lamented in similar fashion. He lamented in similar fashion at the Sun Station. Then Ohrmazd showed them [sic] the pre-existent soul [frawah1'] of Zarathustra, saying: "I will give him material existence, and he will proclaim protection." Then the Ox-soul became content and accepted, saying: " I will cause the creatures to flourish," and he agreed to return to 1 material existence in [the form of] livestock.

As has been generally recognized, this passage draws on an old IndoIranian set of myths in which a representative of the bovine species cries out in protest against the violence that cattle suffer: 2 being struck, stolen, killed , and eaten are among tl1e specific complaints voiced in one of the 3 other Iranian variants that have come down to us, and yet anoilier speaks of "furor, raiding, cruelty, audacity, and strength." 4 These versions, however, do not connect tl1e action to tl1e cosmogenic drama, nor do iliey have 5 the bovine make a celestial ascent in order to voice its complaints. To be sure, the creation story recounted in otl1er chapters of the Bundahifn tells tl1at tl1e Primordial Ox moved into the heavens after its death, 6 but even here some important differences should be noted. First, there is no mention of a lament. Second, it is not the bovine's soul that makes the voyage, but its body (tan) or, according to most versions, crucial parts of its body: above all, its semen (Susar or tohmag). This bodily essence, so it is told, was rescued by Ohrmazd and placed in tl1e moon for safekeeping, whence it is used to create aU the good and productive animal species that are called "beneficent cattle" (go-spand) as a result. Third, tl1e Ox did not journey through multiple celestial realms but went to tl1e moon and the moon only. This story actually forms part of a much broader narrative that begins when Ohrmazd created six original entities: Sky, tl1en, in sequence, Water, Earth , Vegetation, the Primordial Ox, and tl1e Primordial Man, each of which was then attacked by Ahriman in ilie same order that they were created. Most sources describe the results of this assault in terms of mixture or corruption, telling how entities tl1at were originally pure and perfect became tainted wiili evil; thus, for example, some of the world's water turned salt and some oftl1e eartl1 turned mountainous and barren? Greater Bundahifn 7, however, puts things differently. The text reads as follows.

Once Again, the Bo11ine>s Lament

of tl1is earth second t tl . . Then he ca~le to the ~~::~s- 11~~\ an~ tlmd to all of this earth. tl1eir bodies and bore th 'W1tcth ate of Ohrmazd. He seized . em up to e Star Station and g tl t o tlle stars. It IS their light" 1 . I tl ave 1em As it says [" tl A v 1tc 1 le stars reflect back to tile world m 1e vesta]" "The ll . . · essence, earthy in essence and I . ~OI:ste ations are watery in are watery in essence [or· 'h ~ antis~ m essence." Those which ius], Tarahag Padewar p. _:ve t l~ see s ofwater] are Tistar [Sir, ' ' espatwez and the six t . I . I ca]1 Patwez [the Pleiades] T l .' s ats w 1LC 1 they are earthy in essence [or·. h ley t'e the water stars. Those which Bear and theN ·tl S . . ave t le seeds of earth] are the Great Tl tl ot 1 tar. They are the earth st stellations are plant-like in [ ars. 1e o Jer con. essence or: have the seeds f I ] , o p ants . TIlen Ah n man came to the 0 T l on its right side. First its .· I I x. le Ox slept toward the sout11, Th .. ' ng lt eg was collected. d f4 e Wtse Lord took up the b d ti"Listed it to the moo n be ~ y an ~rm of tile Ox. He enreflects back to the wot:ld. cause le moon IS tile illuminator that As it says [in tl1e Avesta]" "Tl . [mah igospand tohmag ]" tl . . lt ~~oon IS the seed of livestock" in tile Moon Station. ' 1at IS, t 1e orm of cattle and livestock is Then he came to Gay6mard [tile p .. . . slept in the south on his left sid H " I ~ t;noldtal Man ]. Gay6mard The Wise Lo;d took h. e.b ~ e t eg was also first collected. because tile light of the ~p tis. o y. He entrusted it to the sun I 0 , un s 1111es on the world F db . or t 1e x became just like tile moon and G , ayomar ecame just like the sun.s For all that these details may seem confusi.n . . . well -ordered pattern Tl . . g, tlley at e organtzed 111 a . 1US, one can perceive 111 tl . tempt to establish a correlati· b 1ts text an ambitious aton etween tl1e seq · h. nal entities were created d h . uence ll1 w Ich the origian t e vertical order of tl I . "stations" (payarg) fiollo . h . . le ce estial spheres or ' wmg t e pnnCJp!e th t tl I" ' created, the lower is the sphere to 1 . I. . a le ear ter an entity was w uc 1 Its body was · d f: man's. attack, as shown in figure 10.1 asstgne a ter Ahri-

It says in tl1e religion: When Ahriman ran in, he did not take a year, a month, or a day, since he was quick. First he came to a third

Wtthin this system (some details ofwhicl . . 1 ate supplted from other chapters of the Bundahifn) tl 1 . h served for the Creator 'an~ tll tg I est realm, til at of "Endless Light," is re. ' 1e ower spheres are pa. 1 d . e out 111 order to I11s creations .9 Of tllese ' th e 1ast created and most 'tce val d tl p . ' ue , 1e nmordial . M an, occupied the topmo st station, tlat 1 of the S I "I 1 . panion (created fifth) . un, w 11 e 11s bovine com. was m t 1le next highest st ti I Plants, which we re created . b f' a on, t lat of the Moon. JUSt e ore the ox went to tl S S . h .' le tar tation, just beIow the Moon. But unlike th e I1tg er stations, that of the stars was par-

184

185

Once Again, the Bovine's Lament

Chapter Ten ENDLESS LIGHT

6 • PRIMORDIAL MAN

s. PRIMORDIAL OX

example, oun·ank and depend on Eartl1, Water, and Sky, wlule Cattle stand in the same relation to Plants, Earth, Water, and Sky. The system represents humans as Ohrmazd's culminating creation and accordingly grants them the paramount position, in the Sun Station. All otl1er creatures are set in subordinate places. In this fashio n, it naturalizes and legitimates human domination and exploitation of all the otl1er creations. Implicit also is tl1e idea of a food chain (as in table 10.1 ), for just as plants drink water, so cattle eat plants and drink water, and so also humans consume cattle, plants, and water aljke, and each eater-so it seems-may destroy its lower-ranking eaten witl1 imptuuty.

3. EARTH

A R S ~~ (

MOVING CONSTELLATIONS

Table 10.1 Relations of Eater and Eaten among the Zoroastrian O riginal Creations

CLOUDS

. . al creations and levels of the . b · . 10 1 Correlatwns etweei1 the SIX .,ongm F1gure · . the Greater Bundahtsn. heavens accordmg to th

1. SKY

.

, . the hi best of these were those stars at s the locus of Plants. Lower tl'tioned into three subsection~. In d lg' on an t1tS wa · 'bl tl II are no t Part of any conste a ll , · . those to th e tlOrth that are VlSl . e the realm of fixed conste atlons. . d with solidity and stabtlwas . ti ·efore assoctate al tilroughout the year and ate ·l.er ,ds its home. Lower still was there. m 'ty h ecliptic toward tile east -wluch l Here tile Ear til (created timd) fu ti se set o n t e dh . . of mobile constellanons- 10 b . . l g of the rainy season, an ere 1 l d the egmnu make tileir appearance ~~o~n Sk first of all creations, appeared at t l e ow the Water was placed. Fma y, y, est station, that of tile clouds. 1. I ·s also attested in the Avesta-we . st ofwuC1 l · ds Witiun ti11S system-mo .. . 1. h tile Primordial Ox ascen . c . tradtnon 111 w u c . d tor a h er tl1e ox is asstgne to one fi nd tile best evtdence . d tl 10 Here, owev , , to tile heavens after tts ea 1. 1.1 Th.is locus, moreover, marks t 1 l e ox s . 1. her· than tile first four (Sky, Wafix ed and specific locus, tile Moon.' . · 1 ·eanons ug d' relation to tile otller on~ma cr . tile. Cloud and Star Stations), but tster Eartll, Plants, assoctate~ Wl:al Man who alone is assigned to tile level , nd the temporal order of the t·tn~tly subordinate to. tile Pnmor d . fthe cosmos a 1 of tile Sun. The spatia or e\ o ized to each other and, what is mo~e, we~e cosmogony were tlllls homo og d l . rarchy in wh.ich every entity ~o 1 . h as to enco e a ue · t nons organized m sue a way t d before it and occupymg s a outranks and depends upon tllose crea e d x loited by those entities that beneath it while being subordinat.e to ;~1 h:~ ~1an it does itself. Plants, for were created later and occupy stations ltg 186

Eater Humans Cattle Plants Eartl1 Water

Humans Cattle

+

Eaten Plants

+ +

Earth

Water

+ + +

+ + + +

Still, there are cracks in this system that permit one to offer arguments against it. Thus, for example, the relation of humans to animals is not just like that of atumals to plants. Whereas the aggression of cattle against plants pits a sentient being against one that is nonsentient, tl1at of people against cattle pits one sentient being against anotl1er: "If you must create me, at least make me without vital force, so that I will be less sensible to pain," pleads tl1e ox in anotl1er variant of its lament. 12 And not only do cattle have consciousness and sensation , but tl1ey also have mobility; what is more, tl1ey have a voice. Finally we have assembled enough information to pose-and answeran important question: If Zoroastrian cosmology assigned the Primordial Ox to tl1e Moon Station, why, in tl1e version of the "Bovine's Lament" wiili which we began, does tl1e Ox-soul ascend beyond the Moon to tl1e Sun Station? In tlus move, is not tl1e Ox-soul out of place? Indeed, it is, and tl1at, I believe, is precisely tl1e point, for as we have come to recognjze, the system-which is as much ideological as cosmological-is organjzed to reserve the highest station for hu mans, whom the system constructs as superior to the ox and all tl1e otl1er creations, witl1 ilie consequence that 187

Once Agai11, the Bovim's Lamellt Chapter Tm

humans may act in ways that benefit them at the expense o f these others: feeding on them, thereby bringing death to all and pain to the sentient. In its speech, the ox th us denounces the practical consequences of a hierarchic system that fosters violence, and it speaks out on behalf of all those creations which suffer under a system that defines them as its lowlier and more primjtive members. Speaking to Ohrmazd himself, the Wise Lord and Creator, the ox demands security and protection for these " lesser" beings and denounces the " higher": " Who has the leadership of creatu res when the earth lies quaking, when the plants arc dry, and when the water is afflicted? Where is that man of whom you said : 'I will create him so that he will proclaim protection'?" 13 In effect, the ox caBs out fo r a different kind of man- one who is a protector of all the created entities, not a destroyer, one who sees hjmself entrusted with caring for creation, not exploiting and domjnating it. Further, in the moment that it steps into the circle of the sun- the station ordinarily reserved for humans- the ox vio lates the principles on which this system is organized. In effect, it is not only speaking out agajnst but actively contesting a hierarchy that its enemies would claim

mo o. ,

But gt~en . .Its usage tlu·oughout tl1e H omeric epics it is possible to ~c m~rc .p recise. In ad~ition to the passage quoted above: tile term occurs seven times. In fo~ r,, man~mate objects are me subject that govern the verb, bt~ t even here m ttkaomat descri bes a noise made in response to a violent tl scenes fl action It 'd. Thus, it is used once- and once only, in all tile bate o t 1C ta ~ for .tile sound tile greatest of shields made when stJ.·uck and torn by the lntghtiest of spears. The shield in question was that which Hephaestus forged for Achilles, and the spear, tllat of Aineias whjch he thrust so powerfully tl~at Achilles tl

Adv~ncing,

he stood close by, and he ilirew at the middle leanin mto the tlu·ow ' g Wi~l his legs spr~ad wide so tllat Ius cast would not lack force. It smashed tile hmges on either side. The stone fell heavily, And tile gates groaned mjghtily [mega . .. mukon] as tl1e b0 I could not ' ts Ho ld, and tl1e boards splintered Under tl1e sto ne's impact.t9 )

is written on the cosmos itself.

II An interesting parallel to these Iranian materials was recently called to my attention by David Sick, who has compared the theme oftl1e " Bovine's Lament" to tl1e episode in tl1e Odyssey where Odysseus's men- in an o utrage mat is only superficially disguised as a sacrifice- seize, kill, butcher, and eat the cattle of Helios, t11ereby calling down on tl1emsclves the wrath of the gods. 14 Sick's analysis centers on tl1e role of tl1e sun in both traditions, and 1 will leave it to him to make his own case. Still, there is a detail in the Homeric text that falls outside Sick's argument but su·ikes me as wortl1y of comment. T his is the specificatio n that after tl1e cattle had been killed, Straightaway, the gods revealed portents to the men . T he hides crept about, and the meat on the spitsThe raw and the cooked- lowed [memukei], as if a voice were born from tl1e cattle. ts H ere, as in the lraillan materials, we hear bovine voices that call out after suffering a violent death at human hands. In the above translation, 1 have rendered the verb mukltomai rather blandly, in accord with its etymology and its usage in Attic Greek, where it has the sense " to low, to bellow, to

. bIn · the tll ree. remaining occurences of m ukaoma•., ll.vl' ng bemgs are tl1e JCCt govermng the verb. One of these beings is a bovine, whjch cries out m the agon~ that separates life from death, vainly seeking help against th that assault 1t. ose ~u

Two fearsome lions among tile cattle Had seize~~ bellowing bull, and he- groanjng lo udly [makra memukos]vyas ~cing dragged off. The dogs pursued lum, as did the youn men 1 he hons had rent tl1e hide of the great bull g . And were gulping down its organs and its bl~ck blood as the herdsmen ' Roused the swift dogs and set them after them , But these declined to bite the lio ns. Standing close by, they barked , but kept out of the way. 2o

189 188

Chapte1· Ten

Finally, the verb is used twice with reference to other beings whose anguished vocalizations are explicitly compared to those of cattle. T hus, O dysseus's men weep when they first see him after tl1eir period of porcine incarnation, and o n this occasion - recalling what they suffered as animals, and relieved at tl1eir rescue from that state- they are said to rm4/uiomai like calves too long separated from tl1eir mothers. 21 Again, when the river god Scamander reacts to the carnage wrought by Achilles, it does so as follows: Running fast , it rush ed at him with a surge And stirred itself, rousing all its streams as it pushed away the many Corpses ki lled by Achilles, which lay thick within it. T hese it cast onto tl1e land , roaring like a bull [memukos cute tau1•os], And tl1e living it saved under its fair streams, Hiding them in deep, great eddiesP Consistent in tl1ese last three examples is the sense that when gods or people mt~kaomai, they employ a voice tl1at is less than articuJate in order to express sufferings tl1at lie beyond tl1e bo undary of words o r tl1e experience of th e human. They speak, in fact, like animals: like animals in pain or near the point of death . Objects, too, can muktiomai, but onl y when tl1ey are under the greatest of stress-when they, like these gods, people, and cattle, respond to the acts of extreme vio lence that are inflicted upon them . Sometimes tl1ey survive, as in the case of Odysseus's men or Achilles' shield , but sometimes, like the meat on the spits, the bull hun ted by lions, or tl1e Greek gates, they cry out in protest against the deeds that destroy them.

Once Agai~t, the Bovi~tc's Lament

problem limited to tl1e ancien t populations of Greece and I ran; rather, It 1s

cot~mon to a great ~any. other societies, and tl1ose who know it are able

t~ listen to tl1e~e ston_es wtth sensitivity and understanding. It is this which gtves them the1r contmuing interest and abiding appeal. T~1e problem of which I speak, obviously enough, is tl 1at of violence· tl:e ~1olenc~ tl1at falls on tl1e weaker, gender, and more peaceful bein ~ ~vtthm creation, often with lethal force; the violence of hu mans against a~­ tmals, an.d oft11~se who consider t11emselves high against tllose whom they succeed ll1 d:finmg as low. Such violence is real, so these myths tell us, and equally real 1s the response of the victims, who cry o ut in pain and also in protes.t. T hey cry out in their own proper places, and tJ1ey cry out in places that are normaJiy reserved for the aggressors. T hey cry out befiot·e d · d fi h , unng, an a"ter t e events of which ti1ey speak, as souls in heaven ("Bovine's Lament ), dead meat on eart11 (Helios's cattle), or simply as tile memories of ~hose we have ~own. In such moments, it is incu mbent t11at we hear and ~espect ti1e~e vo~ees; fl1rti1er, ti1at we add o ur voices to theirs and cry out m lamentation and protest.

III I n the years when I knew l oan Culianu best-we were students together for a brief time during tl1e middJe 1970s an d remained in touch until l 980 or thereabouts- ! wo uld have been tempted to argue for a genetic connection between the Iranian mytl1 o f the "Bovine's Lament" and tl1e H omeric acco unt of Helios's cattle and to understand tl1em as common descendants of some posited " Proto-Indo-European" original. 23 More recently, my interests have changed, and no longer does the attempt to reconstruct protomyths o r protocivilizatio ns strike me as a particularly interesting or worthy endeavor. 24 Whether or not tl1ere is any historic connection between tl1ese mythic materials, I now believe, matters much less than tl1e powerful way in which they add ress a commo n theme: a pro blem rooted in the social reality that was shared by the people who told and listened to these stories. Nor is that 190

191

TI?e Pandits attd M t·. jones

ll

The Pandits and Mr. Jones

I Upon arrival in I ndia 1in 1783, Sir William Jones was committed to three projects: fi1lfilling his professional duties as a judge on the Supreme Court of Bengal, carrying out an ambitious program of research (which I discussed in chapter 4 ), and accumulating enough money for a comfortable retirement in England. To these, he soon added a fourth, when he founded and assumed presidency of the Royal Asiatic Society. But learning Sanskrit was not on his agenda, notwithstanding his status as the foremost Orientalist of his era . Persian, Arabic, Hebrew, and the twenty-odd other lan1 guages he knew were quite enough. He would leave the Sanskrit to others. Difficulties in his judicial activities soon forced him to change his mind, however. Like most judges, he worried about the veracity of witnesses, but on Indian terrain he hoped he might find a solution to this eternal problem. Accordingly, he wrote to his colleagues who were studying Sanskrit and asked whether they or their instructors knew of oaths that would compel Hindu witnesses to give truthful testimony, under penalty of inexpiable sin.2 Conceivably, he might have addressed tlus question to the pandits employed by his court, who advised it on dharma and Dharmasiistra under the English policy that most civil cases involving Indians be settled according to indigenous principles. Unfortunately, however, his distrust had spread to them. "Pure Integrity is hardly to be found among tl1e Pandits," he wrote on one occasion, "few of whom give opinions without a culpable bias, if the parties can have access to tl1em. I tl1erefore always make them 3 produce original texts, and see them in tl1eir own Books.'' If fallible persons were the problem, Jones imagined texts would provide 192

tl1~ s~l u tion, for tl1e values of his culture and profession led him to ( mis )per.c~Ive texts a~ tl1e only stable ru1d impersonal basis for legal action. Ac-

cordmgly, he vrewed tl1e court 's brahmanic advisers as scoundrels "who deal out Hindu law as tl1ey please, a11d make it at reasonable rates, when tl1ey cannot fin~ it ready made." 4 O ne can well imagine there were cases ~vhere the pandrts cut corners or protected tl1eir countrymen against tile mterests o~the English court. No doubt these played a role in Jones's distrust, but .1t ~as a ~ole 1~ore catalytic than causal. Neither personal nor grounded 1~1 1 mme~1ate Circumstance, his was the more sweeping and fundamental.dJstrust wrth which a bibliocentric society views one grou nded in oral practlce, unable to comprehend that here the privileged actors are not tex~s but hu~11an tradents and exegetes, who carry the legal tradition in tl1e1 r memor:I~s, selecting and interpreting those sections wluch speak to tl1e complexltles of each novel situation. Jones_, l~owever, wanted a text, and he wanted to consult it without tl1e med~anon of otl1ers. "The villainy of the Brahmin lawyers makes it necessary for me to learn Sanskrit," he regretfully concluded.s In March 1785, he obtained a manuscript of the Laws o~"Manu (Manava Dharma,_ 'J s~stra) , tl1e most prestigious piece oflegal literature in India, but it took h1m months before he could locate a language insn·uctor, for tt1e brahn~ru1s he_ approached were unwilling to teach him their sacred language.6 Fmally," 111 September 1785 at tl1e University of Nadia (Nabadvipa), he ... .1dit nR<~n1 = alocana"found a pleasant old man of the medical caste"- p"-' who teaches me all he knows of tl1e Grammru·." 7 , Jones w?rked intensively ~vitl1 l~malocana, mastering Sanskrit, reading texts of vaned genres, and dtscussmg Hindu plulosophy and mytl1 . Gradually, he won the ?1~ man's respect and that of his colleagues at Nabadvipa, who (as flattery? 111 JeSt or half-jest?) hailed tl1e English judge as a pandit and adopt~d _lum as "a H indu of the military tribe, which is next in rru1k to tl1e Brahmtrucal." 8 Witlu n a Little more tl1an two years, Jones felt that his know_led~e of Sanskrit and his familiarity with epic and plirar:llc texts wou ld permit h1m to reconstruct tile Indiru1 past with some measure of precision .

II I n l~is e~say "On the Ch ronology of the Hindus," written for t11e Asiatic Society ~~~ Januar_y 1788, Jones undertook this task, and the essay reflects th~ audacity, genms, ru1d grave contradictions of its autl1or.9 Jones believed Hindu texts accurately preserved much ancient lore but wi th a distorted 193

Chapter Eleven

The Pandits and M1·. ]01m

sense of temporality. Confronting texts that rnL"X truth and fancy so freely, he positioned himself as the instrument of science and reason, who would extract reliable testimony from knowledgeable, but recalcitrant and even devious, witnesses. In his first sentence-which runs a full 111 words, including the most favored cliches of the Enlightenment-he grandly announced this purpose.

philological skill to work but used disingenuous understatements to disarm potential cri ticism. "I propose the questions, but affirm nothing," he modestly says, "leaving others to settle their opinions." He tl1en proceeds to suggest that Adam and Manu, son of Bral1ma, are one and the same and tl1at Adam's name comes from Sanskrit adi-m, "tl1e first." 13 Barely pausing for breath, he connects a second Manu, son of the Sun and survivor of tl1e deluge, witl1 Noah and derives tl1is Manu's name from Hebrew Nuh ("tl1e true name of tl1e Patriarch"). 14 Equally labored and specious arguments, with equally disingenous disclaimers, connect Rama and Narasirpha to Ramah and Nimrod, two sons ofCush (Genesis 10.7-9). 15 This done, Jones moves to tl1e second phase of his argument, in which he treats detailed king lists drawn from the Purat)as. Here his task was not the forging of equations but tl1e compression of over-lengthy reigns, to bring mem within the bounds of what he judged plausible and convenient to his argument. Mter dismissing accounts of tl1e first tl1ree Yugas in Hindu world history as "chiefly mytl1ological," and drastically revising tl1e time spans attributed to kings of tl1e fourtl1, he was able to date the foundation of the Indian empire to roughly 2000 B.C.E. 16 Setting tl1e creation of Manu/Adam some two millennia earlier brought it almost perfectly wimin tl1e accepted biblical chronologyY And so it was done! In Sir William's eyes and those of his compatriots, this was a hard-won triumph, garnered by learning, ingenuity, and pluck. Science, religion , the unity of mankind, and, not least, the authority of botl1 the Bible and tl1e Laws of Manu were tl1e intended beneficiaries of that triumph .

The great antiquity of the Hindus is believed so firmly by themselves, and has been the subject of so much conversation among Europeans, that a short view of their Chronological System, which has not yet been exhibited from certain authorities, may be acceptable to those, who seek truth without partiality to received opinions, and without regarding any consequences that may result from their inquiries; the consequences, indeed, of truth cannot but be desirable, and no reasonable man will apprehend any danger to society from a general diffusion of its light; but we must not suffer ourselves to be dazzled by a false glare, nor mistake enigmas and allegories for historical verity. 10 Noble principles once established, the essay's second (and equally verbose) sentence introd uces another project, which sits rather uneasily with the first. Attached to no system, and as much disposed to reject the Mosaic history, if it be proved erroneous, as to believe it, if it be confirmed by sound reasoning from indubitable evidence, I propose to lay before you a concise account of Indian Chronology, extracted from Sanskrit books, or collected from conversations with Pandits, and to subjoin a few remarks on their system, without attempting to decide a question, which I shall venture to start, "whether it is not in fact the same with our own, but embellished and obscured by the fancy of their poets and the riddles of their astronomers." 11 "Our own" chronology, of course, meant that of the Hebrew Bible or, more precisely, th at of then-current biblical exegesis, which set the creation at 4004 B.C.E. 12 And so, the game was afoot: a game in which the foreordained nature of the outcome is what made for such extraordinary sport, as Jones the rationalist scholar and fair-minded judge, Jones the enthusiast ofAsia and pandit-in-the-making, set out to bring the clu·onology of the Purat)as and that of the Bible into alignment and to establish that they both tell the same real, true, historic story. This task he undertook in two phases, each of which involved separate operations. The first treats narratives of first things, and here Jones put his 194

III T here is, however, one passage in Jones's essay whose significance neitl1er he nor his Western audience seems to have appreciated. The general context is his attempt to trace and date the two royal Lineages-termed solar and lunar-said to have descended from Manu, son ofVivasvat and survivor oftl1e flood, whom Jones equated with Noah: In tl1e Lunar pedigree we meet with anotl1er absurdity equally fatal to tl1e credit of the Hindu system: as far as the twenty-second degree of descent from MANU, tl1e synchronism of the solar and lunar lines appears tolerably regular, except that tl1e Children of the Moon were not all eldest sons; fo r king YAYATI appointed the youngest of his five sons to succeed him in India, and allotted inferior kingdoms to the otl1er four, who had offended him; part of 195

Chapter Eleveu

the South to YADU, the ancestor of KRISHNA; the north, to ANU; the east to DRUHYA; and the west, to TURVASU, from whom the Pandits believe, or pretend to believe, in compliment to o~n· nation that we are descended. But of the subsequent degrees 111 the lun~ line they know so little that, unable to supply a considerable interval between BHARATA and VITATHA, whom tl1ey call his son and successor, they are under a necessity of asserting that the great ancestor ofYUDHISHTHIRA actuaUy reigned seven and twenty thousand years." 18 Throughout the essay, Jones dismisses fig ures like Bharata's 27,000year reign as "absurd," a judgment he announces witl: bm~bast_and 1:1o~·e than a little pleasure.t9 In iliis passage, however, there IS a dJgress1on w1tl1m a digression, where otl1er voices can be heard, speaking softly ~nd a g?od deal more subtly. They offer a brief, but densely coded, mythic allusion, which holds more ilian passing interest. The initial di gression in Jones's text comes when he pauses from his chronologie labors to take note of a legal and dynastic anomaly. He_ and his readers know that in India, as in England (and , presumably, all n ghtthinking nations), primogeniture is the normal rule of royal inheritance, and ilie ilirone ought fall to firstborn sons. T he lndic tTadition, howe~er, knows a famous exception in tl1e lunar dynasty. Tlus is tl1e case of King Yayati who under rather special circumstances, delivered his realm not to tl1e oldest b~t to tl1e youngest of his five sons. The story, which Jones mentions in passin g, is recounted at lengtl1 in several sources, most famo usly Miihabhiirata 1.76 - Bo.zo Like most such narratives, it is rich, subtle, and complex, with episodes and implications that spill backward and forward over several generations. _ _ T he story begins witl1 a quarrel between two young women, Devayan~, whose failier, Sukra Kavya, is priest, gu ru , and sorcerer of ilie Asura deities, and Sarmigha, whose failier, Vr~aparvan, is tl1eir ~ing. Their ~uarrel begins innocently enough, when Sarmi~~ha carelessly p1c~s up a slmt that belongs to Devayan:i. Devayaru protests and ratl1er haughnly asserts her superior birtl1, for her failier is a bral1man, and Sarmi~~ha's is of ~he secon_dranking ~atriya ("warrior") caste. To this, SarmiHha offers a typiC~l k~atr~ya riposte, claiming that priests in general-and Devayanl's father 1n spec1~c - are only tl1e servants of powerful kings. And witl1 tl1at, she pushes herr~­ val into a dried-up well, tl1en goes on her way, having literally red uced tl11S girl of high status and lofty airs to a lowly position . _ . At tlus point, a human king enters the story, Yayatl by name, son of l 96

The Pnttdits nud M1'. ]o11es Nah u~a

and descendant of Manu in the lunar line. Out hunting, he comes upon Devayanl, whom he rescues from the well before departing, as tl1e epic follows a narrative th read of more immediate interest. When the outraged gi rl tells her father what happened, Sukra Kavya is hurt and angered on her behalf, also mildly defensive about his status. To demonstrate who outranks whom and who depends on tl1e other, he goes to King Vt·$aparvan and tl1reatens to leave, depriving him of his priestly and magical service. Wishing to avoid this catasn·ophe, Vr$aparvan offers him all of his wealth, but the priest will not be mollified until amends have been made to his daughte r. So Vt·$aparvan turns now to Devayanl and offers her any boon she desires. She asks that Sarmi~~ha-the girl who offended her, and ilie king's own daughter- be given to her as her slave. Without hesitating for an instant, Vr$aparvan agrees, as does Sarmigha, who accepts her new mistress and pledges to follow her into the home of her husband. Mter pausing briefly, the story returns to Yayati, back at his hunting ground, where, as chance and the plot wou ld have it, he encounters Devayanl and Sarmi~~ha. Finding botl1 attractive, he asks tl1eir names and li neages, and when Devayani explains that Sarmigha is both a king's daughter and her slave, he seeks an explanation. Devayani, however, deflects his questions and moves tl1e conversation to concerns of her own. Like Yayati, she is exploring the marital possibilities of the situation , and toward iliat end she inqu ires after his caste identity, for his appearance is tlut of a ll~atriya, whi le his speech-she tl1inks- is tl1at of a brahman. In response, he explains that although he studied the Veda well, tl1ere is notl1ing brahmanic about him: he is Yayati, a king and son of a king. Undeterred , Devayanl cuts to the chase: Will he become her husband? At th is, Yayati recoils, for the gi rl's brazen proposal violates the most fundamental requirements of caste. All literature on dharma specifies that marriages are best in which men take women from tl1e same caste as tl1eir own. In general, however, tl1e n·adition permits hypergamous unions, in which the h usband is of higher caste than his wife, for in these tl1e hierarchies of caste and of gender complement each oilier. Marriages of this sort are called anuloma, li teral ly "going wiili tl1e grai n." In contrast, marriages where ilie husband's patriarchal auiliority is contradicted and undercut by his wife's higher caste are condemned as pratiloma: unnatural unions "going agai nst tl1e grain." Legal texts unifo rm ly treat such marriages as reprehensible but differ in the status they accord whatever children may result from a misalliance of this sort. All regard them as degraded and bar tl1em from inheriting the occupation, privileges, and caste oftl1eir parents. Some 197

Chn.ptcr EleJJC11

treat them as illegitimate, some assign them a caste beneath that of either parent, and some relegate them tO the lowliest caste, that of the servile Sudras. 21 Well schooled in the demands of dharma, Yayati resists the temptation Devayanl puts before him, and she gamely meets his refusal with one argument after another. Kiatriyas and brahmans have always been allies, she says. Besides, he has seers in his family. And finally, she recalls the incident at the well, which she interprets in highly original fashion , straight-faced ly maintaining that when he took her hand, he did so in every sense of the word. Given her persistence (an d originality!), th e king ulti mately modu lates his position. In place of his earlier, blanket refusal, he now says he cannot marry her without her father's permission. H is apparent confidence that such permission will never be fo rthcoming proves to be serio usly misguided. Yayati said: "Let this great offense against dharma not touch me, T he one caused by the mixing of castes. I beg you, 0 Brahman ." Sukra said: "I free you from this offense against d harma. C hoose what is desired ! Do not be averse to this marriage. I rem ove the stain from you. Take the slim-waisted Devayanl as your wife, in accord with the law And together you will obtain joy beyond measme. This maiden also must always be respected by you, 0 KingSarmiHhii, v~~aparvan's daughter - and do not call her to your bed !" 22

The Prmdits and Mr. jones

Q

M anu

I

6

Q

lla .,

Can dra the Moon

'----.----.JI

I

Solar line

l unar line

I

Three generations

.Q

Sukra Kavya, a Brahmin and

9"'" to th6u'" deitie' Devay anl

~

Q

N ia

a Ksatriya and king of the Asuras

YAYATI

Sarmi~!ha,

vr~apa rava n,

0

slave to Devayani

________T ____, I

Yadu

Turvasu

E

Druhyu

L

Anu

1

Puru

With foreshadowing so heavy, the plot proceeds exactly as it must. M ter some years of blissful unio n , Yayati and Devayanl have two sons: Yad u first and tl1en T urvasu . Trouble arises, however, when SarmiHhii-whose caste identity makes her botl1 an improper servant fo r her mistress and a more proper bride for her mistress's h us band than her mistress herselfsees t11ese beautiful children and yearns fo r som e of her own. To fulfill tl1is desire, she presents herself to King Yayati, who o nce again shows his fine sense of d har ma, resisting her charms with more or less the same determination tl1at he showed to Devayanl when she offered him marriage. "I am Devayani''s slave, and she is at you r d isposal," Sarm i~t:ha observes, tl1en moves in fo r t11e kill : "Both she and I are your dependents and burdens you have to care fo r. Enjoy me, 0 King!" 23 True to form, Yayati capitulates, an d three more sons result from tl1is dalliance: Dru hyu, Anu, and Puru, last ofall (fig. 11.1 ).

It remains for Devayan1 to learn of her husband's infidelity and to return to her fat11er, lamenting tl1e wounds she has suffered. Enraged, Sukra K'ivya curses the wayward Yayati and turns him into a doddering old man, whereupon the king pleads for mercy. The efficacy of a curse pronounced

198

199

~

Seventeeine,atiom

Bharat a

Figure 11.1 Genealogy relevant to the story ofYayati, Miihabhiirata 1.76-80 (cf. 1.90).

Chapter Eleven

The Pn11dits n.ttd Mt·. ]m1es

Yayati said: "All you castes, with bral1mans at your head, listen to my word! I could hardly give the kingdom to tl1e eldest. My command was not honored by Yadu, the eldest. He who opposes his father is considered no son by tl1e sages. A proper child is one who carries out the word of his motl1er and father; He is a son who acts like a son in relation to his father and mother." 25

by a brahman, however, can never be undone, for his word calls reality into being. At best, its force can be redirected. So the sudden ly contrite Yayati searches for a loophole. Might it not be possible, he asks, to transfer his o ld age to someone else-one of his sons, say-provided that person were willing? And, to this, the sorcerer agrees. Accordingly, Yayati goes to his firstborn and asks Yadu to take on himself the travails of this premature senescence, freeing his father of its inconvenience and burden. In return, he offers the kingship, as well as a share in his bliss and fame. Further, Yayati promises to restore his lost youth to Yadu after a thousand years have gone by, at which point he expects to have cleared his karmic debts by doing good while also enjoying the pleasures available to the young. But all ind ucements notwithstanding, Yadu declines, as does T urvasu in turn. So Yayati takes his request to the sons he had by Sarmi~~ha , the slave. Approaching them in the order of their birth , he encounters refusal first from Druhyu and then Anu, before Punt , the youngest of all his progeny, graciously obliges. For this, Puru inherits the kingdom and the rest of the lunar dynasty descends from him, despite the curious nature of his succession. Having posed the problem of pratiloma marriage, the text thus finds reason to disqualify the children who are its products. In addition, it weighs the importance of primogeniture against that of filial devotion , as embodied in Yadu's and Puru's respective claims to the kingdom. T his question is posed bluntly when Yayati is about to install Puru as successor and his subjects, led by tl1e brahmans, challenge his right to do so. "Yadu is your eldest son," tl1ey say. "How can a younger merit tl1e kingdom , having outstripped his elders?" 24 To this, a variety of responses are available. Conceivably, the old king could cite Dharmasiistra to tl1e effect that a son born of pratiloma cannot inherit his father's station . Alternatively, he could use aspects of this narrative to drive a wedge between tl1e normally conjoined considerations of seniority and those of birtl1 order. For given that Puru exchanged his youth for his fatl1er's extraordinary old age, he became older than Yadu and all his brothers, even older than Yayati himself. As a result, while Yadu remains the firstborn, be becomes younger than Piiru , who remains last born but has suddenly and miraculously become eldest. Instead, Yayati pursues a different line of atttack, an argument embraced by many others who wish to disinherit tl1eir offspring. T his begins with the understanding that parent-child relations are defined not only by birth but also by behavior, then goes on to stress one particular offense or another.

It remains for Yayati to deal with these errant offspring, who once were his but are no more. Having cursed each one at the time of his fai lure, Yayati now dispatches tl1em to foreign lands, one to each point of the compass, where they fou nd nations and ethnicities whose inadequacies and failings, ignobility and dishonor are reflections of their own. In contrast, Puru, tl1e righteous and royal, remains to ru le at the perfect center, which is identified with northern India (fig. 11.2 ). 27 So much for the digression in Jones's essay. The digression within tl1e digression makes its appearance when Jones comes to Turvasu , the secondborn of Yayati's sons, and mentions that the pandits believe ("or pretend to believe") tl1at he and tl1e rest of tl1e English nation descend fro m this legendary figure. And knowing that the name given to the Western people descended fi·om Turvasu-Yavanas-was derived from and used for the Ionian Greeks, Jones understood this association to be made "i n compliment to our nation." 2 8 Jones undertook his studies roughly a generation after the Battle of Plassey (1757) gave tl1e British control over India. Altho ugh he was a great

200

201

Yayati's argument is clear. Those who refused the request he made in his hour of need failed to behave as proper sons. Yadu and the otl1ers, by their own choice, dissolved tl1e bonds of loyalty and obedience that tied them to their father and tl1ereby reli nqu ished all claims to his tl1rone. The text wishes us to be persuaded and, toward this end, mobilizes tl1e voice of those who just a moment earlier spoke in Yadu's behalf. The subjects said: "A son endowed with good qualities is always well -disposed to his mother and fatl1er. He deserves all that is good, 0 Lord, even if he be the youngest. Puru was your benefactor-he deserves tl1e kingdom. Given tl1at Sukra granted your wish, it is not possible to say anythi ng more." 26

Chaptet· Eleven

The Pandits and M1·. jones

N

those of tl1e West might enjoy at o ne time or anotl1er, tl1ey still remained barbarians. Thus, the term "Yavanas," which initially denoted Alexander's Greeks, was later applied to the Muslims and, later still, tl1e Europeans. Moreover, according to some, it could be used as a caste designator fo r persons of moderately low status, who were born from tl1e anuloma marriage of lz~atriya husbands and vaisya wives. 30 Oblivious to these nuances, Jones seems to have taken tl1e pandits' endeavor as a harmless, even benevolent, bit of whimsy, to which he responded witl1 bemused condescension. I n tl1is, however, it appears Sir William misapprehended tl1e intentions, and also tl1e subtlety, of his Indian interlocutors. Above all, he failed to grasp the taxonomic complexities encoded within the myth ofYayati's sons, which brings geographic, etl1nographic, and genealogical sets into correlation . Moreover, it arranges them in a hierarchic order, for which it offers moral justifications based upon tl1e tl1ree criteria I have identified . Most important is filial obedience, as measured by tl1e sons' willi ngness to sacrifice their youth at their fatl1er's request. Second is primogeniture, and third is tl1e nature oftl1e union between one's parents, it being asserted tl1at caste endogamy is preferable to pratiloma, even when the latter is a legitimate marriage and tl1e former is not. T hese factors serve to differentiate the five sons in a ranked order, as shown in table 11.1.

Anu BARBARIANS

(Miecchas)

w

Turvasu

Druhyu

YAVANAS

BHOJAS

E

Yadu YADAVAS

s Figure 11.2 Distribution ofYayati's sons to the fom quarters, according to the Miihabhiirata 1.80.26 - 27.

deal more sympathetic to Asia than most of his compatriots, the cognitive model which they all shared posited a binary opposition of "East" and "West." While his variant of that model granted more cultural, intellectual, and artistic dignity to the East than did most others, it harbored no doubt that supremacy in the decisive fields of politics, warfare, and economics now lay with the West (which is what made India available to him as an object of both administration and study). The pandits named in this essay, however-R."i.malocana, Govardhana Kaul, and lUdhakanta Sarman, whose learning and integrity he deeply respected, and from whom he obtained both texts and information 29-were inclined to formulate things differently. Working with tl1e traditional narratives tl1rough which they tl1eorized tl1e relations of different peoples, they spoke of two entities that had radically different moral and ontological status from tl1e very beginning: not East and West, but West and Center. And whatever advantages 202

Table 11.1 Taxonomy and Hierarchy, with regard to Yayati's Sons Yadu Turvasu Druhyu Anu Piiru Birth order 1 2 3 4 5 Direction South West East North Center Filial obedience + Primogeniture ( + )" + Caste isogamy + + + Descendant Yadavas Yavanas Bhojas Mlecchas Pauravas people (Indians) (Barbarians) (Barbarians ) (Barbarians) (Indians ) Rank 2 5 3 4 1 •Druhyu lacks primogcninu·e in an absolute sense, being born after Yadu and T urvasu . He is, how· ever, the first of the sons Sarmi~~ha bore Yayati, and thus has a more restricted primogeniture in rdatio n to Anu and Piiru.

When thjs hierarchic order is given a spatial mapping, the top-ranked Puru is located at the center, followed by the second-ranked Yadu, who is set in the south, and tl1ese two sons are tl1e ancestors of Indian peoples (Pauravas and Yadavas, respectively). It then moves counterclockwise to tl1e non-Indian barbarians: tl1e Bhojas, who descend from the tl1ird- ranked Druhyu in the east; Anavas, from tl1e fourtl1-ranked Anu in tl1e north; last 203

Chapter Elelierl

of all the Yavanas, born ofTurvasu, who dwell in the west. The same relative evaluations find expression in the curses Yayati pronounces on the sons who refused him. The four form a set, as indicated by the formulaic Line that introduces each curse, but they differ markedly in the severity of the outcomes th ey mandate. Lightest of all is the fate assigned Yadu. Yayati said: "You were born of my heart, but will not offer me your youth . Therefore, son, there will be no share in the kingdom for your offspring." 31 The full extent of Yadu's curse is thus displacement fro m the throne, and even this is ameliorated by the knowledge that his line will culminate in Krsna the incarnation of the god Vi~Qu, who gives incomparable help to PCt~~~ '~ descendants in the Mahabharata war. Slightly bleaker is the destiny assigned Druhyu, whose descendants are not only barred from tl1e kin gship but also consigned to tl1e backwaters. Yayati said: "You were bo rn of my heart, but will not offer me your youth. Therefore, Druhyu, your ~ear desire will ~ever .c~me to pa~s. . A non-king, you will acqmre the name of Bhop, along w1th yom descendants, . . . , In a land where the o nly water crossm gs wtll be by raft and ferry. 32 The fate of Anu's line is distinctly grimmer, involving religious offenses and a string of early deaths. Yayati said: "You were born of my heart, but will not offer me your youtl1. You have spoken about the evil of old age, therefore it will befa ll you. Your progeny Anu, will perish when they enter youtl1 . o f the sacred fi re. )) 33 And you will )be most assaultive Notl1ing, however, approximates the maledictions pronounced upo~1 poor Turvasu, whose objective conduct has bee~1 no worse than that of l11S brotl1ers and half-brothers but who has the misfortune to be that son of Yayati who is wrong in every way: second born, tl1e product of a misalliance between k~atriya and brahman, and one who refused his father's request. Yayati said: "Yo u were born of m y heart, but will not offer me your youth. Therefore, Turvasu , your children will go to extinction. 204

The Pandits and Mr. Jones

Fool! you will become king over those whose dharma wanders in confusio n, Over those who make pratiloma marriages and the lowliest flesh eaters, Over those who seduce their gurus' wives and those who fornicate with animals, You will rule over evil barbarians, who have tl1e d harma of cattle." 34 T his is the "compliment" the pandits paid to Sir William and the British Raj. In a mythic allusio n so subtle as to be capable of misapprehension by even the most knowledgeable o f eighteentl1-century Westerners, they advan ced tl1e proposition tl1at tl1e English are a degraded, immoral people, descended fro m tl1e lowliest of an cestors, whose faili ngs have consigned them to a distant space since time immemorial, where they are condemned to practice vices as numerous as they are shocking. That such people might wish to reverse tl1eir fall by returning to the more righ teous space and more legitimate ki ngdom from which tl1ey were exiled is understandable, of course. Still, it is wrong, for they cannot undo the fo rmative events of old , and tl1ey cannot escape what has become their nature. Rather than purifying tl1em, tl1e return of these latter-day Yavanas to tl1e center-that is, India, a land rightly ruled by the self-sacrificing, responsible descendants of Puru-simply disrupts the purity and perfection of that land, a situation tl1at can only be corrected by British witl1drawal to tl1eir proper, lesser, and mo re westerly sphere.

IV The incident we have been considering involves not so much a mytl1 as an allusio n to a mytl1 : a reference slipped into an ongoing discussion, and one tl1at was much better understood by those who made it than by the man to whom it was addressed . Worlds do not turn on such moments of conversatio n, but they are not without interest or importance. In the pandits' citation oftl1e Yayati narrative, we can perceive delightful ly subversive politics and wonderfully skillful cultural resistance, albeit on a small scale: an instance of logos in tl1e epic sense. The pandits' story of Yayati, Punt, and Turvasu probably should be considered alongside countless stories tl1e British told to celebrate tl1eir imperial preeminence: stories of the Magna Carta, the Battle ofPlassey, scientific progress, and the "white man's burden," to name a few. The Yayati narrative was no less ideological than tl1ese, of cou rse, but offered a dif205

CIJfl.pfCI' Elcve11

Yayati's Sons

Epilogue

1 Indians (a) Pauravas, from POru (b) Yadavas. from Yadu

Scholarship as Myth

Plassey et al. 1 British

2 Indians

2 Others (a) Bhoj as, from Druhyu (b) Mlecchas. from Anu

3 Westerners Yavanas. from Turvasu

Figul'e 11.3 The pandits' use of the Yayati myth to invert stories favored by (and favoring) th e British.

ferent ideology. Specifically, the hiera rchy of peoples it proposed and legitimated was an inversion of that which figmed in the fo reigners' tales (fig. 11 .3 ). By getting the eminent British judge to nod happily at their story, the pandits not o nly enjoyed a joke and won a small victory; they succeeded in refusing the stories and relations thei r rulers hoped to impose. By remembering an alternative account o f the past, they held open an alternative understanding of the present and helped to imagine an alternative future.

206

I Over the past several years, as I have presented one or another paper that contributed to the evolution of this book, a question has regularly arisen, usually in response to my characterization of myth as "ideology in nan·ative form." Most often it is a student who poses the challenge, an underg raduate whose seat toward the rear of the room signals her alienation, not just from the lecture but also fro m the institutions that, with equal pomposity and pathos, gamely try to make lectures seem interesting and important. "But isn't that true of scholarship as well," she observes. " I sn't scholarship just another instance of ideology in narrative form? Don't scholars tell stories to recalibrate a pecking o rder, putting themselves, their favorite theories, and their favorite peoples on top?" Touche. Once, a particularly puckish student put it somewhat differently. " Isn't logos just a repackaged mythos?" she asked, and the m ultiple iron ies hung heavy. Her question was itself a logos, but logos in tl1e epic sense: a shrewd, g ui leful, eminently strategic discourse tlu·ough which tl1e structurally weak undo those privileged to speak in mythos (once more in tl1e epic sense), tl1e arrogant, bullying discourse oftl1e structurally strong. By equating tl1e two, she effectively said : "You and I speak the same language, witl1 a single exception. Your language is more pretentious than mi ne." Touche again. Initially, I felt tl1reatened when such questio ns arose, tl1en challenged , bemused, and intrigued . I don't know that I've ever answered tl1em successfully, for aU I've tried . I nevitably, the answer I give is a vari ant of tl1e lame form ula: "Well, yes and no .... "The concessionary yes part comes easily enough, particularly after a presentation that touches on Jacob

207

Epilogtee

Epilogue

Brya nt, Sir William Jones, Nietzsche, Dumezil , Max Muller, H. F. K. Gi.inther, Jean Haudry, or the like. T he no part has been mo re difficult to manage, but I find it essential, not only for salvaging some tattered individual self-respect but more important for maintaining a collective sense of integrity and purpose. I not only grant but insist that scholarship- like human speech in general- is interested, perspectival, and partial and that its ideological dimensions must be acknowledged , ferreted out where necessary, and critically cross-examined. Further than that, I am not prepared to go. Rather, I wou ld maintai n that scholarship (like other forms of speech once agai n) is not limited to its ideological moment. Ideology is a part ofscholarship but not the whole, and the other dimensions also merit some attention. To this end, like others, I've stressed scholarship's critical and reflexive moments, and I've also called attention to the portions of scholarly texts that are least narrative and, perhaps as a consequence, also least ideologi cal. I refer to the passages that graphically dific rentiate scholarly prose from that of other genres: the footnotes. What are they doing down there at the botto m of the page or tucked away at the back of the book? AJ·e they lowly, degraded afterthoughts or the foundation on which all else rests, the soil in which it is rooted ? In what ways does the practice of footnoting condition and distinguish the scholarly project ? Ideally, footnotes mark the fact that a scholarly text is not a discourse of fi·ee invention, wherein ideological interests escape all controls. Rather, they serve as a visible reminder that scholarly texts result from a dialectic encounter between an interested inquirer, a body of evidence, and a community of other competent and interested researchers, past, present, and future. All who participate are committed to a sustained engagement with the data and also with one another, their engagements being mediated by shared principles of theory and method, which - like the evidence and its interpretation -are subject to renegotiation in the space of their texts and conversations. Scholarship implies and depends upon debate wherein one experiences the scrutiny and criticism of others who are able to point to data and invoke established principles of method. In so doing, they act as a check on ideological manipulatio n. T his check is important, even though it is never entirely effective, since critics also have their ideological interests and themselves must be subject to scrutiny and critique. Reflection and whimsy have led me to believe that footnotes respond to the ki nd of demand grade-school teachers often make on arithmetic tests: "Show your work." Multiple, complex assumptions are voiced in this phrase, which still brings a smile to my face at the same time it sends a chill

down my spine. I' m not certain that I can unpack them all, or that all are strictly relevant. But tl1ree notions are salient among them. First, tl1ose who enter a field that constitutes itself as one of rigorous, disciplined inquiry do so in good faith. They pledge that their labor is honest, in token of which t11ey "show their work" or "cite tl1eir sources." Second , tl1ey go beyond offering their results to an audience of consumers. They also display the processes through which they arrived at those results for an audience of would-be critics, whom tl1ey accept as peers and superiors consistent with their control over the knowledge and principles tl1at constitute the field. T hird , they agree that if any challenges are forthcoming to their data, metllods, or results, they will consider them thoroughly, defending or revising their positions as necessary, learning and/or teaching in tl1e process. To be sure, this is not all there is to scholarship, and things do notalways work in such idealized fashion. But footnotes - and all they implyare the part of tl1e scholarly endeavor wherein these values are most firmly embedded. To my mind, they represent some of what is best in scholarship: hard work, integrity, and collegial accountability. At the same time, however, they provide opportunities for misrepresentation, mystification, sycophancy, character assassi nation, skillful bluff, and downright fraud. Even so, tl1ey have provided me witl1 an answer to provocative questions fi·om the back row, to which I now respond: "If myth is ideology in narrative form, tl1cn scholarship is myth witl1 footnotes."

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II Students of mytl1 seem particularly given to producing mythic, that is, ideological, narratives, perhaps because the stories they tell about storytelling reflect back on them as storytellers themselves. T heir object of study also has crucial ambiguities at its core. In chapters 2 and 3, I tried to locate two major reversals in tl1e description and evaluation of the mythic genre. The first came when Plato stigmatized tl1e category, marking it with the sign of tl1e juvenile and irrational; the second, when Herder recuperated it, marking it as primordial and autl1entic. Each position persists in tension witl1 the otl1er, and each has provided the basis for narratives, metanarratives, and self-referential meta narratives of varied ideological persuasions. Thus, Plato's dismissive attitude toward myth prevailed tl1rough the Enlightenment and produced the master narrative of the entity that calls itself"Westcrn Civilization." This is the creation mytl1 tl1at makes all good tl1ings come from Greece and tl1emati zes the transition " from mythos to logos" as tl1e paradigm of the dynamism, progress, science, and rationality

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Epilogue

that are supposed to characterize and distinguish Europe forever after. Interestingly (and anachronistically) enough, these ideals that the story traces to Athens may also be understood as the aspects of capitalism that, in common opinion, are most appealing and least problematic. Plato's attitudes also informed the work of early anthropologists, who made myth a centerpiece of "primitive mentality": people like Andrew Lang, Sir James George Frazer, Lucien Levy-Bruhl, and others whose narratives of progress from mythos to logos helped demonstrate the superiority of colonizers to their colonial subjects. Such views were refuted in the period of decolonization by Claude Levi-Strauss, whose writings on myth were infinitely richer, subtler, more perceptive, intelligent, respectful, and humane tl1a11 tl1ose of his predecessors, but no less ideological. Rather, the story he told challenged tl1e older narrative by accepting its ta:
recognized me instrument tlley themselves fashioned and wielded- tile recuperated, romanticized category of mytl1 - as something foundational and primordia.!. Their tl1eory of myth followed on frauds like Macpherson's "Ossian," produced artificial confections like Lonnrot's Kaleva/a, and led to tl1e fetishization of texts like tl1e Nibeltmgenlied. Altl1ough Macpherson will always be remembered as a fraud, it is probably more accurate- and stu·ely more instructive- to view him as an author caught between two shifting regimes of trum: mat of scholru·ship and tl1at of myth. While he set his stories in tl1e moutl1 of Ossian, whose autl1ority he grounded in tl1e claims ofbardic tradition and inspired poetry, Macpherson lumself aspired to a different kind of autl1ority. To tl1is end, he developed a frame story wim which he constructed a persona for himself no less fictive tl1an Ossian's: tl1at of researcher. The conjunction of these two kinds of authority brought Macpherson the attention he desired, but his scholru·ly affectations were also his undoing. While those who would dispute witlun tl1e mytluc regime of truth do so by retelling, reinterpreting, or simply ignoring a bard's tale, tl1ose who do so witlun the scholru·ly regime check an autl1or's citations and ask to examine tl1e evidence. Macpherson's inability to produce Ius manuscripts and field notes when challenged proved Ius undoing, an instance of footnotes triumphant over mytl1. Theorizing myth in terms of Volksgeist was tl1e move Herder leru·ned from Macpherson's "Ossian," the myth about myd1 he developed on the example of a fraudulent myth. His ideas have been highly influential well beyond romantic and nationalist circles and arise whenever myths and peoples are understood as mutually- and unproblematically-constitutive. It is not always the case tl1at myths are tl1e product ru1d reflection of a people who tell stories in which mey effectively narrate memselves. At times, myms are stories in which some people narrate otl1ers, and at times tl1e existence of tl1ose otl1crs is itself tl1e product of mythic discourse.

Ideological interest is patent when scholarslup constitutes privileged narratives and connects them to an equally privileged nation or Votk. The operations are even clearer when me people in question are unattested in history ru1d mus provide a relatively blru1k screen onto which scholars can project meir fears and desires. Such was the case witl1 me discovery or, ratl1er, tl1e discursive construction of me "Aryans," aka "Indo-Europeans." Scholars from Sir William Jones to the present imagined this group as meir

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III

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most ancient ancestors and created for them an accoun t of origins that, in its many variants, carried biblical, nationalist, colonialist, racist, Orientalist, an ti-Semitic, anti-Christian, and militarist valences at one ti me or another. That myth , to be sure, is grounded in solid linguistic research, and over the period from 1786 to the present, linguistics has moved from a haphazard enterprise to a rigorous, if less than mathematical, science. Given what we know oflndo-European pho nology, morphology, and lexicography at present, no sensible person would contest that a strong, systematic relation exists among the languages of the Indo-European family. 1 T he question is how to account for that relation and how to connect this with the lived experience of human speakers. Most comm on has been the genetic, or Stammbaum, model. This is the hypothesis that Sanskrit, Germanic, Greek, and the rest are commo n descendants of a single ancestral language spoken at some point in prehistory, but one that remained unwritten and is therefore unattested in an y surviving records. Such a hypothesis is implicitly or explicitly modeled on o ur understanding of relatio ns among the Romance languages, whose commonalities are explained by their descent from Latin , and their geograp hic extension by the Roman armies' conquests. 2 Conceivably, tl1e Stammbaum tl1eory is correct, altl1ough its logic involves leaps that are open to question. First, it expl ains tl1e relation among the Indo-European languages as tl1e result of divergence from a hypothetical protolanguage, or Ursprache. I n theory, however, one can also explain this as resulting from processes of convergence ratl1er tl1an divergence, as N. S. Trubetzkoy argued in a famous article published on the eve of the Second World War.3 Pace the Stammbaum, Trubetzkoy offered a wave model, in which each group in a string of peoples had its own language and interacted socially and linguistically witl1 its neighbors. Over many generations, language A influenced language B, and language B language C, so that A came to influence C through the mediation of B. U ltimately, A and n (Celtic and Indic, say) came to influence each other, as a result of which they show significant similarities, as well as differences. Less likely, perhaps, and surely less widely accepted than the Stammbaum, but not impossible and-on this I would insist - no more ideological or mytl1ic tl1an its rival theory. In contrast to tl1e narrative of Aryan migration and conquest favored by the Nazis, Trubetzkoy worked the same evidence into an eminently irenic account, reimagining the deep past for his purposes in the present. Other authors have challenged tl1e Stammbaum model o n otl1er

grounds, observing tl1at even if tl1e historically attested Indo-E uropean languages did descend from a single protolanguage, the existence of tl1is ancestral language by no means im plies tl1e existence of a single, ethnically homogeneous people who spoke it. Thus, Franco Crevatin suggested that Swahili- an arti.ficiallingua franca, spoken across vast portions of Africa as an instrument to facilitate long-distance trade- may be a better analogue than Latin for tl1eorizing Proto-Indo-European. 4 His desire, like Trubetzkoy 's, seems to be to imagine a more irenic, more diverse past as a means to guard against scholarly narratives that encode racism and bellicosity. In Crevatin's view there was a Proto-Indo-European language and tl1ere were people who spoke it for certain finite purposes, but no community of Proto-Indo-E uropeans. Similar is Stefan Zimmer's position, intended as a rebu ke to racist theories, hypothesizing a protolanguage spoken not by an etl1nically pristine Urvolk but by a shifting, nomadic colluviesgentium, a "filtl1y confluence of peoples." s Zimmer's views take as tl1eir model a situation like tl1at which obtained on the nortl1 bank of the Danube in the middle of tl1e sixth century, c.E., as descri bed by Procopius, Vandalic War 1.2.2-5. T his passage is of particular interest, since it is one of tl1e earliest attempts to use linguistic and otl1er evidence to reconstruct-that is, to hypothesize or simply imagine - a now-dissolved prehistoric Urvolk.

Here, Procopius moves from a situation of complexity, intermixture, motion, and violence in tl1e present to an image of stability, simplicity, and unity in the unspecified past. First he connects Goths, Vandals, Visigoths, and Gepaides to Getes, Sauromatai, and Melankhlainoi ( tl1e last two north-

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There were many Gothic and otl1er nations in earlier times, as is the case now. The biggest and most noteworthy of all are the Goths, Vandals, Visigoths, and Gepaides. But in antiquity they were called Sauromatai and Melankhlainoi, and tl1ere are those who called tl1ese nations Getic. All these are differentiated from each other by their names, as has been said, but tl1ey differ in nothing else at all. For all their bodies are white, tl1eir hair is gold, tl1eir appearance is tall and noble, tl1ey practice the same customs, and likewise tl1ey honor god in tl1e same fashion. For they are all oftl1e Arian faitl1 and they have one language, which is called Gothic. It seems to me tl1at they we re all originally from one nation, and later tl1ey came to be distinguished from each other by the names of those who were leading each group. T his people dwelt above the river Ister. 6

Epilogue

Epilogue

ern neighbors of the Scythians). Then he asserts that aU these distinctions are recent developments, since all were originally members of a single tribe, race, or nation (ex henos . .. einai hapantes to palaion ethnous). Why? The answers are those that run through the history oflndo-European studies. They have the same language (phone te autois esti mia ); they have the same cultme (nomois men tois autois khrontai); they have the same religion (cs ton thcon autois esketai). Oh, yes, they're also all tali (cumekcis), blond (leomas xanthoi), fair-skinned (leukoi . .. somata), and noble in appearance (agathoi tas opseis), which shows they're of one (extremely good!) stock. Although historic accident led them to separate and adopt difterent names (onomasi de hysteron ton hekatois hegesamenon diakekristhai), it's obvious they originally ali came from one place. Where was it? Well , why not the northern bank of the River l ster (i.e., the Danube), the traditio nal border separating northern from southern Europe. 7 Goths, Getes, Sarmatians, and the rest thus all blend into one nordische barbarischc Urvoik. From a distance, Procopius's reasoning strikes us as foolish. T he single religion he posited for these groups-groups he saw from his perspective and aggregated on the basis of his interests-was the Arian heresy (Arciou doxes eisin hapantes), to which they converted in the fourth century, and not some deep ancestral heritage. Further, blond hair and the other somatic characteristics were not accurate indices of race but an ancient stereo type attributed to northerners in general and theorized as the product of life in a cold-moist climate, as we saw in chapter 5. Finally, the languages of these people were related in a variety of ways. Some were close in morphology and lexicon (Gothic and Visigothic, e.g.), others quite distant (Sannatian and Getic), and some are virtually unknown to us, as they were most probably to Procopius (those of the Gepaides and Melankhlainoi ). Procopius sought cognitive control over a mobile situation of bewildering diversity and he pursued this goal by positing (" reconstructing") a single "Proto-Gothic" language, homeland , religion, culture, and people. Archeologists and others wrestle with similar questions in tl1eir neverending attempts to specify the Indo-European Urhcimat. Sir William Jones wanted to put it in Iran, as we saw in chapter 4, and Friedrich Schlegel opted for India. Most otl1ers in the nineteenili cenmry followed them by setting the homeland in Asia and popularizing narratives of lux ex oriente, as ilie European powers were finding new ways to extract more of Asia's fabled wealili . Mter 1880, attitudes shifted , and scholars like Karl Penka (1847-1912), Gustaf Kosinna (1858 - 1931), Matthaus Much (18321909), and Hermann Hirt (1865- 1936) argued in favor of locating tl1e

All of tl1ese exercises in scholarship ( = myili + footnotes) suffer fi·om tl1e same problem . T hey attempt to reach so far back into prehistory iliat no textual sources are available to control tl1e inquiry, but where archeology offers a plethora of data. In practice, all ilie remains found tl1roughout E urasia for a period of several millennia can be constituted as evidence from which to craft tl1e fi nal narrative, but it is often tl1e researchers' desires tl1at determine their principles of selection. 12 When neitl1er ilie data nor ilie criticism of one's colleagues inh ibits desire-driven invention, ilie siUJation is ripe for scholarship as myth. Prehistory here becomes "pre-" in a radical sense: a terrain offrustration and opportunity where historians-cum myiliographers can offer origi n accounts- complete wiili heroes, adventures, great voyages, and a primordial paradise lost- all of which reflect and advance the interests of tl1ose who tell tl1em . Ideology in narrative form. Although ilie temptation exists, I would not laugh at these debates or dismiss them as inconsequential. Is it necessary to recall that more than ink

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origins of the world-conquering Aryan people on thei r own soil in t11e Germanic nortl1. And when the aggressive tendency to co nflate th~ Aryan witl1 tl1e Nordic caused alarm in the 1920s and 1930s, scholars who had thei r reasons f~r opposing tl1e Nazis, like Sigm und Feist (1865 - 1943), V. Gordon ChLlde (1892-1957), and Wilhelm Koppers (1886 - 1961 ) advocated a homeland out on tl1e Russian steppes.!! Mter the Nazis and tl1eir views had been defeated, Marija Gimbu tas won considerable support for tl1is iliesis in a series of publications tl1at began in 1956. As she fleshed out her ideas in later decades, however, it became clear she had a more complicated story to tell. H er inversionary narrative drew a sharp contrast between aggressive, patriarchal, nomadic, and artistically incompetent I ndo-Eu ropean invaders fro m the "Kurgan cultu re" ofilie steppes and the pacific, matrifocal, agriculmral, aesthetically sophisticated, much more an cient and admirable Old Etu·opeans of Mitteleuropa. T he Soviet takeover of her native Litlmania was a transparent subtextY When Gimbutas's views had become near hegemonic, Colin Renfrew challenged iliem, arguing for a homeland in Anatolia at a much ea1·lier date tlun others had posited. 10 This let him associate tl1e Indo-E uropean dispersal with ilie slow, peaceful diffusion of agriculture ratl1er tl1an a rapid expansion by military might. Other theories have proliferated in recent years, most of them fueled by parochial nationalisms. Georgians favor ilie ~a~casus, Indians tl1e Hindu Kush, Armenians Armenia, and otl1ers simply mstst on the autochthony of ilieir own people and reject any t11eory of dispersal o r invasions. II

Epilog~te

was spilled by advocates of a northern Urheimat? Surely 1t IS wrong to read history in a narrowly teleological retrospect, on the basis of which we hold Sir William Jones and his brethren accountable for all atrocities committed under the Aryan banner. But chastened by what we know of the connections between this discourse and those events-also by the now-evident gaps and flaws in the discourse-we must resolve to do better. Memory, decency, and scholarly prudence suggest we ought exercise exu·eme caution when we theorize about matters now politely called "Indo-European." T he position I urge is the following. First, we accept as established the existence of a language family that includes Tocharian, Indic, Iranian, Armenian, Anatolian, Greek, Italic, Phrygian, T hracian, Baltic, Slavic, Germanic, and Celtic. Second, we acknowledge that the relations among these languages can be described in several fashions. Of the available hypotheses, the Stammbaum model is the most popular, but by no means the o nly one. It ought not be accepted as long as others exist , and we ought not discard those others unless there is compelling reason to do so. In the absence of such compelling reason, we can remain agnostic, recognizing the existence of multiple hypotheses and maintaining a particularly skeptical posture toward those with histories and subtexts of racism. Third, we recognize that the existence of a language family does not necessarily imply the existence of a protolanguage. Still less does the existence of a protolanguage imply or necessitate the existence of a protopeople, protomyths, protoideology, or protohomeland. At a certain level, I suppose I am arguing to relocate the Urheimat once more, not to any quarter of the glo be, but to a specific discourse. Excavating the texts within which that discourse took shape and continues to thrive, we can explicate their content by placing them in their proper contexts, establishing the connections among them, probing their ideological and other dimensions, explicit and subtextual. AU this can be done with occasional admiration and occasional horror; critical rigor, perspective, and distance; and considerable regret. As students of myth, we can turn our attention to the mytlunaking of our scholarly, as well as tl1at of otl1er, ancestors, secure in the knowledge that our descendants will one day return us the favor. In short, tl1e story I would tell-and like aUothers, it is a story witl1 an ideological dimension, conditioned by its au thor's interests and desires-is one that recalibrates categories and redistributes privilege, encom·aging a move away from projects of"reconstruction" and toward those of criticism . 216

Notes

Preface and Acknowledgments 1.. Ivan Strcnski, Forn· Them·ics of Myth itt TIVentieth·Century Histor)': Cassirer Eliade U1n-Stmuss, attd Malinowski (Towa City: University oflowa Press 1987)· D · ·1D 't · 1. 1 · d , ., . . ' , ame u JUISson ' MyttJo ogm tt XX n~cle (LJ!le: Presses universitaires de Lillc, 1993). ' 2. E~J!c ~~~~·khe1m an~ Marcel Mauss, Primiti11e Classification, trans. Rodney Needham (Clllcago. Umvc1s1ty ofClucago Press, 1963; French original, 1901-2), pp. 77-78. 3. My first, rudimentary awareness of these difficulties was signaled in Bruce Lincoln Myt~J, Cosm~s, an~ ~oc~ety: lndo-Em·opean Themes of Creation and Destruction (Cambridge: MA. Ha1va1d Umvers.•ty Press,_ l 986), p. 173n2; more thorough discomfort appeared in Death, War, and Sacrifice: Stud1es Itt Ideology and Pmctice (Chicago: University of Cl11· Press, 199 1), pp. xv-xix, 119 -27. cago 4. Georges D~1mezil, Mythe et epopee, Vol. 2: Types &piques indo-em·opeens: tm heros SOI'Ctcr, 1m rot (Pan s: Gallimard, 1971). '

1111

5. Such a narrative can be found in many summary discussions, such as C. Scott Little-

~~~6~~~~): Compamttlle Mythology, 3d ed., rev. (Berkeley: University of California Press,

Chapter 1 . 1. For older treatments of this theme, sec, inter alia, F. M. Corn ford, F!·om Rcligiort to Phtlosophy (New York:. Longmans Green, 1912 ); Wilhelm Nesde, Vom Mythos zu Logos: Die Sel~~tent[_alttm~ d~l:gncchtschcu Dmkens von Homct· bis attf die Sophistik tmd Sokt·atcs (Stutt· ~alt. Alhed.Ktonel, 1940); and Bruno Snell, Th_e Discovery of the Mind (London: Blackwell, 953) .. ~~~e rec~ntly, see, e.g., W. K. C. Gudme, A Hmory of Greek Philosophy, Vol. 1: The Earl1~1 l1csoc:_at1.cs and t~~ Pythagoreans (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962), PP: 1 3, 140 42, G. S. Ki1k,J. E. Raven and M. Schofield, The Presocmtic Philosophers (Cam~nd~e: C,an~~n~ge University Press, 1983), pp. _72-74; an d Peter Schmitter, "Vom 'Mythos' zum Logos . E1kenJ1tmsknt1k und Sprachreflex1on bei den Vorsokratikern " i11 Gesc'· · h• d . Sp h t · ("f " b' ' , me .e &1 ~ac_ tteone . u _m ge1~ : Narr, 1991 ), 2:57-86. Eric Havelock has added an important dil~lenswn t~. tl1JS d1scuss1on by strcssmg how 1mportanr a role was played by tllc introduction of wntmg, but m many other ways the story he tells remains much t11 c same as that f ?1s predecessors. Sec, e.g., his essay "Prclitcracy and the Prcsocratics" in Eric A H · 1 °k The L t t R I . . G ' . ave oc ' . '. ~ra e . ~vo ntwu m rcece a11d Its ,~ttltuml Consequmces (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Umve1s1ty P1ess, 1982), pp. 220-60, and The Linguistic Task oftl1c Presocratics," in Kevin

217

Notes to Pages 3-5

Notes to Pages 5-6

Robb, Language a11d '/hougbt in En~·ly Greek Pbi/osopby (LaSalle, IL: Monist Librnry of Phi· losophy, 1983), pp. 7- 8 1. 2. T hus M . L. West, ed., Hcsiod: 17Jeogolty (Oxford: Oxford Universit)' Press, 1966) (lines 27-28): "ili11 cv IJ!culiea rroA.A.a Atyew f:-ru~totmv OJ.lo\a, I ilif.l&v li' ei'i-r' f:Oe/..wf.lev aA.qflea YllQUcraaflat." See Paul Mazon , cd., Hesiode: 17Jeog01tic, Les Travaux ct les ]ours, Lc Bouclier (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1928); Felix Jacoby, ed., Hesiodi carmi11n (Berlin: Weidmann, 1930 ); Friedrich Solmsen, ed., Hesiodi 17Jcogonia, Opera et Dies, Scutum (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 197 0 ); Grnziano Arrighetti, ed., Esiodo, Teogm1ia (Milan: Rizzoli, 1984). In recent years, these Lines have been the topic of much discussio n an d commentary. See, inter alia, Pietro Pucci, Hesiod and tbe Language of Poetry (Baltimore: Johns H opkins University Press, 1976), pp. 8-33; Wilfi·cd Stroh, " H esiods li.igendc Muse," Beitriige zm· klassischen Philologie 72 ( 1976): 85112 H einz Neitzel " H esiod und d ie liigenden Musen," H ennes 108 (l 980): 387- 401 ; Eliz~beth .Belfiore, .:Lies unlike the Truth : Plato on Hesiod, Theogo11y 27," Tramactiom of the A111c1·icau Philological A ssociation ( 1985): 47-57; Angelo Buo ngiovanni , " La vcrita e il suo doppio (Hes. 17Jeog. 27- 28)," in btterp,·ctnzioni autiche e modernc di tcstigreci (Pisa: Giardini, 1987), pp. 9 - 24 ; Giovanni Ferrari, " H csiod's M imetic Muses and the Strntegies of Deconstruction," in Andrew Benjamin, ed., Post-stmctumlist Classics (Londo n: Routledge , 1988), pp. 45-78; Louise Prntt, Lying and Poctl) from Home1· to Pin dar (Ann Arbor: University of M ichigan Press, 1993), pp. 108 - 12; and Marie-C hristine Leclerc, La Parole chez Hesiode (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1993), pp. 204 - 22. 3. Odyssey 19.203: "·laxe IJ!eooea rroAA.a Atywv f:-rUJ.IOLmv OJ.IOia·." This is said of the story with which the disguised Odysseus hides his identity fi·om his wife and with which he moves her ro tears. Odysseus's ability to construct a plausible falsehood in this instance depended on his knowledge of the truth, his desire to conceal o r mislead, his verbal and conceptual skills. [t is thus clear that tl1e fo rmula pseudea . . . etymoisi1J. homoia (which occm s o nly here and in 17Jeog011J 27) denotes not innocent erro rs offact, but deliberate acts ofdeception. 4. Works nud Days 260: "YtlQU&-r' av9Qoonwv alitxov v6ov." T he " bribe-eating kings" (paatA.i'jt; ... liwQoq>ayot) arc mentioned at lines 263-64 , witl1 implicit comparison to lines 35-39. YllQUof.IOL is not arrested in Homer but occurs in the Homeric Hynm to Hermes 426, and D elphic Oracle 473 .4 (1-J . W. Parke and D. E. W. Wo n ncll, 17Je Delphic Om cle [O xford: Blackwell, 1956], p. 192), witl1 reference to divine proclamations of truth, as has been noted by Jose A. Fernandez Delgado, Los Ornwlos y Hes{odo: Poes{a omlmn1ttica y gnomica griegas (Salamanca: Universidad de Extrcmadura, 1986 ), pp . 40 and 4 8- 49 . 5. ln the stemma reconstructed by West, p . 6 0, tl1ere are four main manuscript families: B, a (subdivided into n and v), b, and k (su bdivided into K and u). Oftl1ese, B and u arc frngmentary and do not include line 28. T he variant reading 1J.U9ftaaa 9at is found in all the remaining fami lies, save n (which consists of two manuscripts). Earlier editors preferred YTJQUaa aflat on tl1c principle of lcctio difjicilio1; a decisio n tl1at was confirmed by tl1c discovery of two papyri oftl1e second and third centuries (West's n 1 and n 2 ), in which tl1is reading was preserved . 6. Wm·ks and Days (lines 8-10):

"Dcr frtihgricchischc Worrgebrauch von Logos und Aletl1eia," A1·chiv fiir Begt·ijfsgesciJichte 4 ( 19~9): 82 - 112, who begins with this observation: "Im Epos ist d ieses Wort [logos) noch

Ze\x; i>lJ!tPQ&J.IETl)C;, ot; i>neQ-ra-ra OOOIJ.a-ra vaict, xA.u9L iorov OLOOV -re,liix n o' i9uve flEJ.llOTat; TUVT)' f:yro lit xe n eQOll ETllTU)lO J.IU9qcratJ.IT)V. 7. Note also that the Muses inspire two sorts of men, w ho speak two d ifferent sorts of speech: kings, w ho speak in assembly and deliver legal judg ments (Theogony 81- 9 3), and po ets, who sing the deeds of gods and heroes, providing diversion from hu man griefs (Theogo11y 94 - 104). Cf. the Homct·ic Hynm to the M11ses attd Apollo, lines 2 - 4 . 8. O n the earliest uses of logos, the most tho ro ugh discussion to date is H erbert Boed er,

218

wemg gebrauchlich. Die sparlichen Belcgc ncnnen cs nur im Zusammenhang von Bezauberung, Ablenkung und Irrefiihrung" (p. 82). Also of interest arc Henri Fournier Les Verbes "di1·c" engrec ancien (Paris: Klincksicck, 1946); and Claude Calame, '"Mythe' ~t 'rite' en Grcce: Des categories indigenes?" Kemos4 ( 1991 ): 179-204. 9. Works nud Days 106: "€-rEQOV -rot f:yro A.Oyov EXXOQUq>OOaOJ." Leclerc, Ln. Parole chez Hesiodc, p. 34, trnnslates logos "t·l:citfictif" on the basis of this passage. On H csiod's account of the world ages ( Wm·ksaud Days 106- 201 ), sec Jean-Pierre Vernant, Mythe et pmsee chez /es Crees (Paris: Maspero, 1974), 1: 13-79; and K. Matthicssen, " Form und Funktion des Weltaltermythos bei Hcsiod," in G. W. Bowersock ct al., cds., Arktouros: Hellmic Stltdies Prese11 ted to Bernard K11ox (Berlin: Walter de Gruytcr, 1979), pp. 25-32. I 0. Conceivably, this is a grammatical echo of a hint the M uses d rop regarding the inexhaustibility oflinguistic invention: "We know how to recount many falsehoods t11at arc like truthfi.1l tl1ings" (tO)lEv IJ!euoea rroAA.a Atyew i:-rU)lotatv 6)1oia, Theogony 27). Along similar line~, R.1flaelc Pcttazzoni was fond of quoting North American legends of a storytelling contest m wh1ch Coyote bested the gods, his false tales being infinitely more numerous than their l i mit~ stock ?f divine truths. R. Pettazzoni, "The Truth of Myth," in Essays i1t the H istory of Rehgtmls (Letdcn: E.]. Brill, 1967), p. 12. 11. 17JCOgOIIJ 226 - 29: Ai>-raQ "EQtt; a-ruy&QllTEX& ~tev n ovov aA.ytvocv-ra J\~911V T& J\L)lOV xai "A.A.ye a liOXQUO&VTO 'Y'crJ.ltvat; -re Maxat; -re <1>6votX; -r' 'AvliQox-raa iat; -re Neixca -rc 'i'eUiiea -re A6yotX; -r' A)lq>tA.A.oyiat; -re 12. Works fl'ld Dnys 78: "~ICOOea e· Olf.IUAlOU<; -re AOYOU<; xat f:rrlxA.orrov Tj9ot;." 13. Cf. PIJacdms 237b, where Socrates attributes his speech in praise of tl1e non lover to a man who is, in f.1ct, a lover of the youth to whom the speech is delivered but is specified as a lover so subtle, crafty, and seductive (1Jai11mlos) that, for the purposes of seduction he rep' resents himself as a non lover. 14. Wo,·ks m1d Days 373-75: f.llllie yuv~ ae v6ov rruyoa-r6A.ot; f:~ana-ra-rw ai)luA.a xw-rtA.A.ouaa, -re~v litcpiiiaa xaA.tftv· Ot; lie yuvaLXl rrerrot9&, rrerrot9' 0 yc q>tAirrnaw' On tl1is passage, see Folco Martinazzoli, "Un epitcto esiodeo deUa donna," Pnrola del Pns-

sato (1960 ): 203-21. 15. On tl1c attitudes ofH csiod and his contemporaries toward women, sec G. Arrighetti, " 11 misoginismo di Esiodo," in Misogi11i11 e mnscJJilismo in G1'Ccin e in R oma (Genoa: Istituto d1 filo logta classica e medicvale, Universita d i Genova, 198 1), pp. 27- 48; Patricia A. Marquardt, "Hcsiod's Ambiguous View of Women," Classical PIJilology 77 ( 1982): 283-9 1; Marilyn Artllllr, "The Dream of a World without Women: Poetics and the Circles o f Order in tl1e 11Jcogmty l'rocmium," At·cthma] 6 (1983): 6 3-82; and Jean Rudh ardt, "Pandora Hcsiode ct les femmes," Museum Helveticum 43 ( 1986) : 231-46. Note also the broade; discussion of Ann Bergren, "Language and tl1e Female in Early Greek Thought," A 1·ethusa 16 ( 1983): 69-95. 16. Worksalld Days782-89: ex-rqli' ~ f.IEOOTJ )laA.' acrUJ.lq><>Q6t; f:crn q>u-ro'iatv, avliQoy6vot; li' aya9ft· xot'JQn li' oi> OUJ.lq>OQOt; f:anv OUT& yevea9at TrQiii-r' ou-r' OQ' yapou av-rtPoA:i'jaat.

2 19

Notes to Pages 10-12

Notes to Pages 6 -9 oooi: ~lEV li TtQOOTTJ EXTll xo6Qn ye yev€o9at aQ~cvoc;, ci:U' EQ[cpouc; ni~vetv xal nooea ~~)..wv, OTJXOV T' Qf.!Cjli~UAetV TtO\f.lV~tOV ~Tt\OV ~f.lUQ' E:o9Ai) li' avlieoy6v~· q>tl.£01 liE XE XEQTOf.lU ~a~EIV l(>cooca e· aLf.lUAlOuc; TE A6youc; XQucplouc; ,. OaQtOf.lOUc;. On d1is passage, see the asrute discussion ofJesper Svenbro, "Naltre lc sixicrne jour du rnoi o u lc vingticrnc," Atmuaire de /':Ecole pratique des hatttes etudes, V' sectio1t 101 (1992193)~ 244 - 45. . 17. Works Mid Days 782: "f.la)..' cioUf.1CflOQ6c; £on cpuToi:otv." l8. WM·ks al/d Days 786: "OQf.lEVOc;, a).).' i:Q[cpouc; TO ~VE IV xal TtOOEa f.lTJAWV." 19. Works and Days 788-89: "eo9)..i) li' civliQoy6voc;· cptA.tot lie xc XEQTO~a ~a~ew 1 ~JEuliea e· ai~lUAl Ouc; TE A6youc; XQUq>touc; ,. OaQlOf.lOUc;." 20. Marcel Detienne and Jean-Pierre Vern ant, Cmming lrltcltigmcc in Greek Culture and Society, trans. Janet Lloyd (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991 ). For a convenient summary discussion, seep. 13. 21. The story is recounted at Theogony 886 - 900. Sec fmther Detienne and Vernant, pp. 107- 12; Annie Bonnafc, Eros et Eris: Marriages dir•im ct mythe de mcccssio11 chez H&siode ( Lyon: Presses Universitaires de Lyon, 1985), pp. 81- 87; and Clemence Ramno ux, "Les Femmes de Zeus: Hcsiode, Theogonie vers 885-955," in Marcel Detienne and Nicole Loraux , cds., Poikilia: Etttdes offirts ]ean·Piet-re ~mat1t (Paris: Editions de !'ecole des luutes etudes en sciences sociales, 1987), pp. 155- 64. 22. Theogo11y 890 and 899. For 11edus wid! tl1e sense of "womb," see Theogo11y 460 and Iliad 24.496. Note that Athcnc finishes her gestation in this same ambiguous space, with Zeus as her male mower. 23. Theogo11y 887: "nA.ei:om 9eiiiv Eilimav ilie 9vTJTiiiv civ9eoonwv." 24. Theogo11y 889-90: "li6Aq> CflQEvac; E:l;anaTl,oac; I aif.lu)..[otot A6yototv t ~ v £oxaT9eTo vl']liuv." 25. Odyssey 1.55-57:

a

Toii 9uyaT11Q liuoT'lvov 61iuQOf.levov xaTEQUxEI , aiel liE ~ta)..axoi:ot xal. aLj.lUAtotot )..oyototv 9e)..yet, OTt~ 'J9axT]c; eTtlATJOETat· 26. Homeric Hynm to Hermes 316: oux cili[xwc; ETtt ~ouol.v E;)..Q~UTO xulit~lOV "Ee~•fiv." 27. Hermes is referred to by a host of terms that play on tl1c vocabulary ofmetis, hai11m· los, and do/os ("snare, guile")-haimulometis (line 13), poikilometis (155, 514), dolopbrades (282), polymetis (318 ), dolometis (405 )-and his usc ofdoloi is also mentioned at lines 66 76 and 86. On H ermes and the character he assumes in tl1is hymn, tl1e discussion ofNonna;1 Brown, Hermes the Thief(New York: Vintage Books, [ 1947] 1969), retains its value. See also Giancarlo Croci, " Mito c poetica nell' inno a Errnes," Bolletino dell' Istiwto di Fi/o/ogiagreca, Universittl. di Padova 4 (1977178 ): 175-84; Laurence Kahn , Hermes passe, oulcs ambiguites de Ia communicatio11 (Paris: Maspero, 1978); and H . H erter, "L'Inno a Hermes alia luce d ella pocsia orale," in C. Brillante et al., cds., I poemi epici mpsodici 11011 omerici e Ia tradizione orale ( Padua: Antcno re, 1981), pp. 183-201. 28. HomericHynm to Hermes 317- 18: "auTaQ6-r€xv110lv Texal aif.luA[otot A6yototv 1 ~9eA.ev el;,anaTOV KuAATJVtOc; 'AQYUQOTol;,ov·" 29. Iliad 4.339 - 40: "xal ou, xaxoi:ot li6Aotot xcxao~ti:ve, xeelia)..eocpQov, 1 T[nn: XaTaTtTOOOOOVTEc; OCj>EOTaTE, j.llf.lVETE o' OAAOuc;." 30. This reading is from British Museum Papyrus 136, which dates to tl1c tl1ird century G.B. 31. Iliad 2.734-36. Eurypylus figures occasionally in the fig hti ng (5.76 - 79, 6.36,

o:

220

_ 65) and is among tlmse who cast lots for the right to duel Hector (7 .167). He is treated as 82 major hero, whose wound bodes particularly ill for dle Greeks, at 11.660-62 and 16.25- 27. 3 32. Iliad 15.390 -400: n aTQOXAOc; li' ~~ f.lEV 'AXatOl TE TQiliec; TE n;[xcoc; Qf.lCj>E~HlXOVTO 9oawv exT09t Vl']iiiV, TOCj>Q' 0 y' f:vl XAlOt n ciyanl,voeoc; Et'>QuTtUAOlO ~oTo TE xal Tov iheQ7tE )..6yotc;, E:nlli' EAxe'( )..uyQ(ii CpOQ~ax' axEOf.laT' ETtaOOE f.lE)..a tvawv 61iuvawv. auTaQ f:nd Iii) •e'ixoc; f:neocJuf.levouc; tvoTJOE TQiiiac;, ciTaQ C.avaiiiv yeveTo lax~ TE cp6~oc; TE, cjl~wl;ev ,. aQ' ETtElTU xal Oi TtETtATJYETO ~I TJQOO XEQOl xaTaTtQl)VEOO', OAOCj>UQOf.lEVOc; li' snoc; T]Uiia· "EuQUTCuA', ouxen TOt lil>va~Jat xaTEOVTt TtEQ' Ef.l7tTJc; i:v8alie TtOQpcvi:~tcv· o1] yaQ f.lEYa vc'ixoc; oewecv· 33. The verb for "entertain" used in 15.392 is tcrpeitl, which Hcsiod uses for tl1c effect the Muses' singing has on Father Zeus (Theogo11y 37 and 51). This root also figures in tl1c names of two Muses (Eu-terpe and Terpsi-chore) and tl1e capacity to delight, botl1 aesd1eti· cally and erotically, that Hesiod attributes to tl1e Muses and Aphrodite ( terpsis, Theogony 917 and 206, respectively). I n Homer it is frequently associated witl1 poetry (Iliad I .474, 9.186, 189; Odyssey 1.347, 8.45, 17.385), music (Iliad 18.526), song and dance (Odyssey 1.422 = 18.305). 34. T he two sections ofdle passage may be contrasted as follows.

Rest ( 15.390-93) Action ( 15.394-400 )

Site and Nature of Battle Around the wall

Trojans breach the wall, "shouts and panic"

Patroclus's Actions "He sprinkled drugs to cure the dark pains" "H e cried o ut in distress and smote his tl1ighs"

Patroclus's Speech "H e entertained wid! words" (eterpe logois) "Wailing, he uttered iliis speech" (olophuromwos d'e OS e11da)

35. 71Jcogony 646-50: All o ur days we have fought for victory and power, Confronting each otl1cr for a long time now, The Titans and dle gods, aU dlose who were born of Kronos. Now show your great force and irresistible hands To the Titans in deadly battle! ~li11 yaQ

f.lOAa liTJQOV tvavTtOt ci:U~wtot v[xl']c; xal xaQTEuc; TtEQt f.lOQVa~e9' ~f.laTa navTa, TtTfivcc; TE 9co\. xal ooot KQovou exyeVOf.lE09a. Uf.lclc; lie ~lEYOATJV TE ~LTJV xal xei:eac; aamouc; cpa[ vc•e Tt-r~vcootv f:vav•lov tv lia'i )..uyeti36. Theogony 664 -67: Thus he l Cottus] spoke. And d1e gods, givers of goods, assented, Having heard his mythos. And their spirit was eager for battle, Even more than it was before. And they stirred up unwelcome battle, All of them, females and males, on d1at day....

We; cpa•'· f:n(lv11oav lie Seol ow•~eec; E:awv

f.lU6ov axouoavTcc;· TtOAE~ou li' f:)..tAatETO 9uf.loc;

221

Notes to Pages 1 7- 19

Notes to Pages 12-17 ~~~AAov &-r; ~ -ro,mi 12 ot~e~ 11 ax11v l>'.ai!E:yae~ov &yetQav 7taVT£<;, 8T]Aelat T£ xat aQCJ€V£<;, T]I!OTI X£\ VCjl....

37. Theogony 168- 72: Oaeo~oa<; l>e IIEYO<; Ke6voc; ayXUAOI!~TT]<; a\\jl' aline; ~!USOtO t TCQOCJllUI>O I!T]TEQO xel>vllV. "~ifiTeQ, f;yoo xev -rou-r6 y' \moox611evoc; -reAioatl!t EQYOV, enelrca-rQO<; ye l>uorovUI!OU oux aAI:yt~(l) ill!e-reeou· neo-reeoc; yae aetxea 1111cra-ro &eya."

38. Works and Days 202- 12: Nuv I)' atvov PacrtAeUOlV EQE(I) cpQOVEOUCJl xal au-roic;·

c1ili' tQT]~ neooeem ev 011Mva rcotXtA65etQOV, u\jlt I!OA' EVvecpeom cpE:erov ovuxeocrt l!qtaQnOOc;· ill>' f:A£6v, yvai!TCTOt0l1t€1tOQI!€VT] Ol!cp' ovuxeocrtv, llUQ€To · TlJV o y' f:m xea-rE:ro<; nQO<; ~!UOov &emev· "l>ati!OVlTJ, Tl AEATJXV aeeirov· Tij I)' el<; {i cr' OV f:yoo 1t£Q ayro XOt aoti>Ov EOOOav· l>einvov 1)', at x' f:OeAro, TCOrTJOOI!at i]e 1!£8~oro. iicperov 1>', oc; x' £0eAn 1CQO<; XQeicrcrovac; avncp£Ql~£1V" VlXT]<; T£ OTEQ£TatnQ6c; -r' a'toxeotv iiAyea rcaoxet.'' 00<; &cpa-r' c.OxunE:TTJ<; tQT]~. -ravuoimeQoc; oQvtc;. On this parable, sec Annie Bonnafe, "Le Rossignol et Ia justice en pleurs," Bulletin de l'rrsso· ciatio1~ Georges B11de (l 983): 260- 64; Jcns Uwe Schmidt, "Hesiods Ainos von Habicht und Nachtigall ," Wo1·t tmd Diemt 17 ( 1983 ): 55-76; Steven Lonsdale, " Hesiod's Hawk and Nightingale ( Op. 202 - 12), Fable or Omen?" H ermes 117 (1989 ): 403 - 12; and Marie· Chrisine Leclerc, " Lc Rossignol et l'cpervier d'Hesiodc: Une fuble a double scns," R evue desetudesgmques 105 ( 1992): 37- 44. 39. Cf. Odyssey 19.518- 22. 40. Thus Iliad 18.508, Theogony 86, Wm·ks and Days 7, 9, 36, 224, 226, and 263. 4 1. Wo rks a11d Days 263: "-rau-ra cpuAacrcroj.levot, pao tAfjc;, i8uve-re 11U8ouc;." The dispute between Hcsiod and Pcrses is discussed at Works rmd Days 35- 39 and again at 274 - 85. 42. Wo1·ks and Days 190- 94: oul>e nc; EOOQXOU x.aQtc; &acre-rat oul>e l>txaiou ooo' aya0oi3.1!iiUov M xaxiiiv QEXTfjQa xal i\pQtV QVEQtXT] I)' EVxeecri· xal ali>OO<; OUx EOTOI, pA&Ijletl>' 6 xaxoc; TOV aeeiova cpiii-ra 11U8otcrt oxoA.tOic; E:venrov, f:nll>' oexov O~!EiTat. 43. Works and Days 184: "ouM xacrtyYT]TO<; cpiA.o<; &crcr£TOl, OOc; TO naeoc; 1C£Q." More fully, sec Works and Days 176-201. 44. Theogony 24 -28: -r6vl>e M j.l£ nerono-ra OealrcQO<; j.!UOov &emov, Mouoat "OA.ul!mallec;, xoilQat !>toe; alytoxoto· "7t0l1!EV£<; ayQaUAot, xax' £Aiyx.ea , yacrTEQ£<; otov, tlll!ev ljleooea 7tOAAO Aiyetv ETUI!Otcrtv O~!Oia, ti>I!EV ll' d}-r £OeA.ro11ev
siod and by epic poetry in general. At present, however, we have seen enough ro establish the point of immediate interest to us: in 111eogo11y 24, the poet's usc of the lcxcmc mythos is mo· civatcd by his desire to mark the Muses' speech as trustworthy and true. 46. In addition to the passages cited below, sec, inter alia, Iliad 1.273, 1.388, 1.565, 2.282, 2.335, 3.76, 3.87, 4.357, 4.412, 5.7 15, 7.404, 9 .62, 11.839, 14.127, 16.83, 16.199, 19.85, 19.107, 19.220, 20.369, 22.281, 24.571; Odyssey 1.273, 1.361 = 2 1.355, 2.77, 2.83, 5.98, 8.302, 10.1 89, 10.561, 23.62; Hy11m to Hermes 29 , 154, 253, 261 , 300. 47. Iliad 2.198- 202: ~ov I>'

ali ~>t111ou -r' iivl>ea 'loot po6urov-ra -r' f:cpeueo t, -rov crxf]nTQCil f:A.aoaoxev O~!OXA{joaoxe -re ~~US~>· "l>atl!6vt', a-rQepac; Ticro xal iiAA.rov ~!UOov iixoue, o'i oeo cpeQTEQOi eiot, ou I>' arcTOAE~!O<; x ai iivaA.xtc;, OUTE no-r' EV 1t0AE1!(9 i:vaQlOI!lO<; ou-r' i:vi pouAij.

48. Odyssey 1.356- 61: aU ' Eic; olxov iouoa TO o' au-rfjc; EQya XO~!t~e. tOTOV -r' TJAoXOTT]VT£, xai cll!cptnOAOtOt XCAeUC &eyov f:noixecr8at · 1100oc; ll' avoeeoot ~!EA.f]cret niiot,I!OAlOTa ll'E~!Ol" TOU YOQ xea-roc; &o-r' i:vl OlXCjl." "H 11ev Elallpl)craoa rcaA.tv o1:x6voe pep~xcl" nmMc; yae l!i30ov rcenvu11evov &vOe-ro Ow
Chaptet· 2

45. Absolute stability is, of course, never accomplished. There remains the nasty possi· bility that a lying poet - inspired by lying Muses- lies when he says the Muses speak true, when in fact they arc lying about their capacity to speak truth. One enters here an infini te regress, the nature of which has considerable import for the claims of authority made by He·

l. Useful background reading for this chapter includes Marcel Detien ne, The Mastel'S of Tmth in A1·chaic Greece, trans. Janet Lloyd (New York: Zone, 1996 ), 71Je Creation of Mythology, trans. Margaret Cook (Chicago: University of Cl1icago Press, 1986); Claude Calame, I11e Craft of Poetic Speech i1~ A 11ciem Greece, trans. Janice Orion ( Itl1aca, NY: Cornell U11ivcrsiry Press, 1995), "«Mytl1c» et <
222

223

Notes to Pages 2 1-26

Notes to Pages 19-21 biano, Luciano Cantora, and Diego L.wza, eds., Lo spazio letternrio della Grecia n.ntica (Rome: Salerno, 1992); Peter Rose, Som ofthe Gods, Childt·en of Earth: Ideology a11d Litemt·y Form iu Ancimt Greece (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1992); Christiane Sourvinoulnwood, R eadi11g Gt·eek Culttwe: 'Texts and Images, Rituals and Myths (Oxtord: Clarendon Press, 1991); Wolfgang von Kullmann and Michael Reichel, cds., Det· Ubergn.ug 11011 der Miindlichkcit zur Litemtttr bei dm Gt·iecben (Ttibingen: Narr, 1990); Gregory Nagy, Greek Mythology a11d Poetics (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1990); Paul Veyne, Did the Gt·ceks Believe in Their Myths?, trans. Paula Wissing (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, J 988); Bnmo Gentili, Pomy n.ud Its Public i11 Ancimt Greece (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1988); Bruno Gentili and Giuseppe Paioni, eds., Omlitit: Cultum, letterntum, discorso (Rome: Edizioni deii'Atcneo, 1985); Jean-Pierre Vernant, Myth a11d 71JOttght atJIOttg the Gt·eeks, trans. Janet Lloyd (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1983), Myth n.nd Society iu Aucimt Greece, trans. Janet Lloyd (London: Harvester Press, 1980), The Origim of Gt·cck Tbottght (Jrhaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1982); Dario Sabbatucci, "Aspetti del rapporro mythos-logos nella culrura greca," in B. Genti li and G. Paioni, eds., I I mito gt·ecrJ (Rome: Ateneo, 1977), pp. 57- 62; Jcsper Svenbro, Ln. Pn.t·ole ct le mm·bre: Aux origi11es de ln. poetiquegreque (Lund: Srudcntenlitteratur, 1976); Eric A. Havelock, Preface to Plato (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 1963 ); E. R. Dodds, T1Je Greeks n.11d the It·rn.tio11al (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1951). More specifically on the Homeric materials: Charles Segal, Singers, Heroes, fl.11d Gods i11 the Odyssey (Ithaca, NY: CorneU University Press, J 994); Carlo Brillante, "Il cantorc c Ia Musa nell' cpica grcca arcaica," R11diae: Ricerche mlmoudo cln.ssico 4 (1993): 7-37; Walter Potschcr, "Das Sclbstverstiind nis des Dichter in dcr ho merischcn Pocsie," Litcmttwwissemchn.ftliches]n.hrbuch 27 (1986): 9-22; Colin Macleod, " Ho mer on Poetry and the Poetry of Homer," in Collected Essays (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983 ), pp. 1-15; F. Bertolini, "Dall' aedo omerico al vatc Esiodo," Q]tn.demi di stm·in. 6 ( 1980): 127-42; Wolfgang Schadcwalt, "Die Gestalt des homerischcn Sangers," in Vo11 Homers Welt uud Werk, 4th ed. (Stuttgart: Kohler, 1965), pp. 54 - 87. 2. Odyssey 8.479-8 1: rrficrt YOQ av9QW7t01<JIVi:mxGoviot<JIVaotliol Tl~l ~~ et.t~LOQOl eicrt xal ailio~. OUVeX' OQU crcpea~ Otp a~ ~toucr' Eli\.lia~e, cpLAll<JE lie cpu>..ov aotliiiiv. 3. Odyssey 8.492-98:

a.r..r..· aye Iii] f.leTOPTJ9l xal'irrrrou XO<Jf.lOV aet<JOV liOUQUTEOU, TOY . ErretO~ E1t0ltlOEV cruv 'AG~v n , ov rroT' e~ OXQ01t0AIV M>..ov ilyaye Ot~ 'Oiioocrdx; avliQiiiv et.trr>..~cra~ o'i (!' •tr..tov e~aMrra~av. Ul XEV li~ tJOl TUUTU XUTQ tJOlQUV XUTUA.f:~ n~, ati't'ix' eyro nficrtv t.tU9~crOtJUt av9QW7tOtcrtv, cix; OQU TOt 1tQOcpQOlV Geo~ rorracre a&crmv ao tli~v. 4. Odyssey 8.577-80: drr£ I)' 0 n XAUtet~ xa\ 61iUQEUl evlio9t Gupqi AQYELOJV t.ava iiiv ~I)' 'Jr..lou ohov axo6wv. TOY liE Geol tJEV Tei>!;av' E1teXAclJ<JUVTO li' oA.e9QOV av9Qrorrou;. '{ va nat xal E<J<JOf.lSVOtcrlV aotli~.

5. Odyssey 9.3-ll:

i1 TOt tJEV TOiie xa>..ov axoui:~lEV ecrTtV aotliou 't'Otouli' oi:oc; oli' EOTl, 9eOl~ evaA.iyxto~ atili~v. oti yaQ eyro ye TL cplWt TCAo~ XUQtecrTEQOV dvat 224

~ aT' eucpQocruv 11 ~~&v exn xaTa ~>~t.tov anavTa, liatTUtJOVE~ I)' ava lirot.taT' axoua/;OJVTUt OOtSou

ll~lEVOt e~et l']c;, 7tUQO Se 7tAll90Jcrt TQ01tE/;at OlTOUXULXQEtroV, ~te9U I)' EX XQTJT~QOc; acpucrcrtOV oi voxoo~ cpoQSJlOl xal eyxe\. 11 lierrtlecrcrt . TOUTO 't'l pot XOAAt<JTOV evl. cpQEOtV etlieTUt elvUl.

6. Helpful secondary literature on Hesiod includes Cristiano Grorranclli, "La parola rivelara," in Giuseppe Cambiano ct al., Lo spn.zio lettemrio de/ln. Grecin. n.11tica, pp. 219 - 6.4; Jenny Strauss Clay, "What the Muses Sang: 11Jeogmsy 1- 115," Gt·eek, Romn.11, at1d Byzntltmc ~tud­ ies 29 (1988): 323- 33; Giovanni Ferrari, "Hcsiod's Mimetic Muses and the Stratcgtcs of Deconstruction," in Andrew Benjamin , cd., Post·Stl'llcturnlist Classics (London: Routledge, 1988), pp. 45-78; Angelo Buongiovanni, "La verita e il suo doppio (Hcs. Thcog. 27- 28)," in Interp1·etazioni amiche e mod.eme di testigreci (Pisa: Giardini, 1987), pp. 9-24; Renate Schlesier, "Les Muses dans lc prologue de Ia «Thcogonie» d 'Hesiode," Rev11c de t'histoire d~s religious 199 ( 1982): 1 31-67; and Pietro Pucci, Hesiod n.ud the Ln.tlgllfl.gc of Poetry (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976). 7. Tbeogo11y 22-32: vu rro9' 'Hcrioliov xa>..T]v eliilia~av aotli~v, aQva~ notpaivov9' 'E>..txiiivoc; imo l;a9eotO.

ci{

T6vlie lie t.te nQroncrTa eealnQoc; t.tli9ov eetrrov, Moucrat ·or..ut.tmalie~. xouQat t.to~ a iyt6xoto· "nott.tf:vcc; ayQUUAOt, xax.' f;Af:yxea, yacrTEQC~ olov, 'LSt.tev tjJEUiiea noA.Ait >..eyetv S't'ut.totcrtv 6t.to'la, tlitJEV s· EUT e9eAOJ~lEV OA119ea YT]QU<Jacr9at. .. roc; ecpacrav XOUQUl peya>..ou l.to~ OQ't'lE7telUt, xai tJOt crx.~7tTQOV eliov McpvTJ<; EQtST]ASOc; ol;ov liQetjlacrat, Grp,TOV' evbtveucrav lit tJOt atiliT,v a&crmv, 'iva xA.eiott.tt TO T ecrcrOtJEVU 1tQO T' EOVTU. 0

8. Epimcnidcs of Crete, Fragment B1: " KQ~TE~ Oet tjJEOOTUl, xaxa 9T]QlU, yacrTEQEc; OQYYUt." 9. Tbeogony 81- 93. . 10. Most of tl1e secondary literature o n the pre-Socratics tends to focus on tssucs of strictly philosophic interest, but tl1e following are wortl1 consulting: }atune P6rtulas, "Hera~ clito y los maitres it penser de su tiempo," Emerita 61 (1993): 159.- 76; ~ol?er Theslcff, "Prcsocratic Publicity," in Sven-Tage Teodorsson, ed., Gt·eek n.nd Ln.tm Stttdm m Mem01-y .of Cajus Fabt·icius (Goteborg: Acta Universitatis Gothoburgensis, 1990), pp. 11.0-2.1; Kevm Robb, ed., La11guage n.11d Tb01tght in Early Gt·eek Philosophy (L.1Sallc, IL: Momsr Ltbrary of Philosophy, 1983); Eric A. Havelock, The Literate Revolutiou in Greece audIts Cultzwal Co11· scque11ces (Princeton, NJ : Princeton University Press, 1982 ); Daniel Babur, "Xcnophanc critique des poctes," Amiqttite classique 43 (1974): 83-117, "Heraclitc critique des poet:s et des savants," Antiquite classique 45 (1976): 464-96; J. Defradas, " Lc Banquet de Xcnophane," Revue des etttdesgrecqztes 75 (1962): 344- 65. I 1. Xenophancs, Fragment Bll: 1tOVTU Geo'icr' avc0T]XUV ijOpTJQOc; a· ' Hcrtoli6r; TE, ocrcra 7tUQ' avGQronotcrtv OVelliea xal tjJOy~ ecrTI.v, XASrrt'EtVtJOlXEUElV TE xal aA.A.~A.ouc; 01tUTEUEtV. 12. H craclints, Fragment B56: "E~TJ1tOTTJVTUt, cpTJOlV, oi av9QOJ1t0t 1tQO~ Ti,V yviiicr tv TiiiV cpaVeQiiiV rraQ01tATJOlOJc; 'OI!~Q(!l, 0~ s yevETO TroY 'EAAftVOJV crocproTEQO~ 1tOVTOJV. EXelVOV TE

225

Notes to Pages 26-30

Notes to Pages 30-33

yaQ rratlk<; cp(ld Qa<; xaTaXTclVOVTE<; E~l']TCe, for the logoi of the Greeks, as they appear to me, arc many and ridicu lous." ('ExaTa'io<; MtAllato<; roSE J.lU(lE'iTat' TOOE YQO<pro, 00<; ~lOt OOXEl OAI'J()Ca d vat· oi yaQ 'EA.A.I1vrov A6yot rroAA.oi TE xal. AEyoi:ot, oo~ E~lOl cpaivovTat, datv-Fragment 1, Jacoby.J 17. Xcnophancs, Fragment B1 .12 -24:

26. Pa.rmcnides, Fragment B8.1-2: "J.lOVoc; o' en ~lU8or; ooo'io I t..elrrETat cOr; EC!Ttll.'' 27. On Empcdoclcs, see Antonio Capizzi, " Trasposizione del Jessica america in Parmenide ed Empcdocle," Qj1adenJi m·biua.ti di culmm classica 54 (1987): 107- 18; S. Panagiotou, "Empcdoclcs on His Own Divinity," Mt1cmosyne 36 (1983): 276-85; K. E. Staugaard, "Empedoklcs, «physiologos>>ellcr poet?" Museum Twmlatmm (1980): 23 - 38. 28. Empedoclcs, Fragment B62.1-3:

n

~lOATC~ o' OJ.l KEvTaUQOOV, rcAOcrJ.laTa Tiiiv TCQOTCQrov, ClTOa tar; acpeoavar;, TOta' OUOEV XQ11aTOV evEan· (lerov TCQOJ.lTJ()ElllV aisv EXEtV a ya86v.

n

vuv o' ay'. orrror; OVOQOOV TE TCOAUXAOUT!J}V TE yuvatxOiv E:vvuxlour; OQTCTJXO<; av~yayE XQ\ VO~l EVOV TCUQ, TiiiVOE XAu' · OU yaQ ~l\i(lo<; OTCOaXOTCOc; ouo' OOO~J.lCOV. 29 . Empedocles, Fragment Bl14:

ro cplA.ol, o'toa J.lEV OUVEX' OAlledll TCOQO J.lueol<;, olX; l:yoo E~EQC(t)' J.lclAO o' OQYOACTJ ye TSTl>XTClt OVOQOa\ xai oucr/;111..0<; ETCl aTE yt..rocrcrqr;, EX o' ocrirov aTOJ.lOTCOV xaeaQllVOXETEUClaTE TCilY~V xa\ aC, TCOAUJ.l VllClTll AEUXcOAEVE TCaQElBVE Mo\iaa, OVTOJ.lat, rov ec~lt<; EaTLV E
ElclJ,l VO<; T' oirov6c; TE xal. e~aAO<; EAAOrror; ixeU<;. 33. Empcdocles, Fragment B146:

18. O n the symposium, sec Oswyn Murray, ed., Sympotica: A Symposium on the Symposiu.m (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1990); and Massimo Vetta, ed ., Poesia e simposio 11ella G1·ecia antica (Rome: Laterza, 1982). 19. Xenophanes, Fragment Bl.22. 20. Democritus, Fragment B297: "Some people, not knowing about the dissolution of mortal nature, given common knowledge of the evil-doing in life, suffer through their lifetime from troubles and fears, fabricating-in-the-shape-of-myths falsehoods [ pseudea ... mythoplasteontes] about the time beyond their end." [evtot evl'JTTir; cpuaEror; OtOAUCl\V oux eiooTE<; aveQroTCOt, auvEtO{jaet OE TTjr; EV Tiiit ~trot xaxOTCQOYJ.l.OaUVll<;. TOV TTjr; PtoTTj~ XQOVOV EV TClQOXOt<; xal. cpo~otr; TOAatTCroQCOUat, ti>EUOea TCEQl TOU J.lETU T~V TEf..EUT~V J.lU(lorcAaaTCOVTE<; XQOVOU.] 21. Xenophanes, Fragment Bl.22. 22. Democritus, Fragme nt B18: "TCO\T]TTJ<; OE acrcra J.lEV&v YQOCPllt ~l ET' i:v8oucrtacr~lOU xallEQOU rrvcu~taTo<;, xaA.a xaQTO l:aTtv." Cf. Fragments B21 and 44. 23. Dcmocrirus, Fragment B225: "aA.l'JewmecEtv XQEmv, ou rroA.uA.oycetv." 24. Useful literature on Parmenidcs includes Lambros Couloubaritsis, Mythe et philosophic chez Parmenide ( Brussels: Ousia, 1990 ); Giovanni Pugliese Carratelli, "La Thea di Parmcnide," La pa1·ola. del passato 43 (1988): 337- 46; Robert Bohmc, Die perkatmte Muse: Dicbters:prache zm.dgeistige Traditio11 des Parmenides (Bern: Francke, 1986). 25. Parmcnides, Fragment B2.1: "do' ay' E:yoov EQCOO, XOJ.l\Clat OE au J.lU(lov axouaar;."

35. Protagoras, Fragment B4: "rrEQl J.lEV 8Erov oux exro etocvat, o(\(l' oo<; Eiatv oi5e' 00r; oux Eia l v oi5e' orro'ioi TtVE<; iocav· rrot..t..a yaQ Ta XOOAUOVTO eiocvat 1\ ... OOTJAOTT]r; xal. ~QaxUr; rov 0 ~[o<; TOU av()Q!OTCOU., 36. On the Sophists in general, sec Jacqueline de Romilly, The Great Sophists i11 Pet·iclcan A them (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991 ); G. B. Kcrfcrd, The Sophistic Mo11emmt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1981 ); W. K. C. Guthrie, 71Jc Sophists (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1971 ). 37. See Ion Banu, "La Philosophic de Gorgias: Une o ntologie du logos," Philologm 131 ( 1987): 231- 44, and 134 (1990): 195-212; Marie-Pierre Noel, " La Persuasion et Ia sacre

226

227

Ei<; os Tel..oc; J.lclVTEt<; TE xal. uJ.l.vorr6A.ot xal. ll]TQOt xal TCQOJ.lOl av()QcOTCOlCltV emxeovlotcrt TCCAOVTat, ev8Ev ava~AaaTOUat 8Eot TlJ.lTjtat
Notes to Pages 34-36

Notes to Pages 37-42

chez Gorgias," Bulletiu de !'association Guillaume Burtt! ( 1989): 139- 51; and the special issue of Siculomm Gyumasittm 38 ( 1985 ). 38. Gorgias, Fragment B23: "~ve.,a& o' ~ TQayrotlii.a xallit&lkn'jaTJ, eau~ta<JTOV OXQOCI<J~ta xal e&a~ta Tiiiv TOT' av9Qomrov y&VO~tEVTJ xal 7taQO<JX,OOOCI TOte; ~tU9otc; xal Tote; na9&otv 07t0TI1V. We; r. Qll]<JlV, nv 0 -r' OTtCIT~oac; litXOlOT&QOc; TOii ~~~ anan']aavToc; xal 0 01TOTJ19dc; <JOqJOOT&QOc; TOii ~~~ 01TOTTj9EvToc;. 0 ~ti:v YOQ anaT~oac; OlXOIOT&QOc; OTt Toii9' imoax.o~tevoc; rccnoi TJX&Y, 0 !)' 07tOTTj9dc; <JOqJOOT&QOc;. etia:l.roTOV yaQ ticp' liliov~c; :1.6-yrov TO ~lll avai.o91]TOV." 39. Critias, Fragment B25:

40. For a variety of views on authorship of the Sisyphus, sec Marek Winiarczyk, "Nocllmals das Satyrspicl 'Sisyphos,'" Wiene1' Studieu 100 ( 1987): 35-45; D. V. Panchcnko, "Evripid iii .Kririj?" Veswik Drevnej l storia 151 (1980 ): 144 - 62; Albrecht Dih1c, " Das Satyr-

spiel 'Sisyphos,"' Hennes l 05 ( 1977): 28-42; and Dana Sutton, "Critias and Atheism ," Classical Qparterly 31 (1981): 33-38, "The Nature of Critias' Sisyphus," Rivista di studi classici 22 ( 1974 ): 10- 14. On Critias, sec Francesca Angio, "Erica arisrocratica ed azionc politica in Crizia," Qpader11i de storia 15 ( 1989): 141- 48; Luciano Can fora, "Crizia, prima dci Trcnra," in G. Cascrtano, cd., I.filosofi e it potere nella socictit e nella cultu.m a11tica (Naples: Guida, 1988), pp. 29-41; and P. Baric, " Die Religion, cine Erfindung der Herrschcnden?" Det' altspmchliche U11terrecbt 28 (1984 ): 20 - 32. 41. The literature on Plato is enormous, but the most important recent book on his attitudes toward myth is Luc Brisson, Platm1, lcs mots et lcs mythcs ( Paris: Maspero, 1982 ). Also worth consulting arc T hea Kobusch, "Die Wiederkehr des Mythos: Zur Funktion des Mythos in Plarons Denken und in der Philosophic dcr Gcgcnwarr," in Gerhard Binder, cd., Mythos (Trier: Wisscnschaftlichc Verlag, 1990), pp. 13-32; Richard Bodclis, "«)csuis devin» (I!hedt·e, 242c): Remarques sur Ia philosophic scion Platon," Kemos 3 (1990): 45-52; Bruce Lmcoln , "Socrates' Prosecutors, Philosophy's Rivals, and the Politics of Discursive Forms," At·ethusa 26 ( 1993): 233 - 46; Gerald F. Else, Plato and Aristotle on Poetry (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1986 ), TIJe Stmctttre and Date of Book 10 of Plato's "R epublic" (Heidelberg: Carl Wimer Univcrsitatsver1ag, 1972 ); Frans;ois Lasscrrc, " Piaton, H ornerc et Ia cite," in T. Hackens et al., Stemmata: Metanges de philologie, d'hirtoire et d'archeologie grecqucs offerts it jules Labat·be (Liege: L'Antiquite classiquc, 1987), pp. 3- 14; Julius M. Moravcsik, "On CorreCLing the Poets," Oxford Studies in A1tcie11t PIJilosophy 4 ( 1986): 35- 47; MarccUo Masscnzio, "II poeta chc vola (Conosccnza cstatica, comunicazione orale c linguaggio dci scntimcnti nello Io11e di Platonc)," in B. Gcnti li and G. Paioni, cds., Omlitit ( Rome: Atcneo, 1985), pp. 161-77; Nicole Loraux, "Socratc, Platon, Heraklcs: Sur un paradigmc hcroiquc du philosophe," in ). Brunschwig, ed., Histoi1'e et structure: A Ia mbnoire de Victor GoldsciJmidt ( Paris: Vrin, 1985 ), pp. 93-1 OS; Julius Elias, Pinto's Defeme ofPoetry (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1984); G. Casertano, " Pazzia, pocsia c politica in Piatone," Am~t~li dell' istituto tmiversitario orimtale di Napoli, sezione filologica-letteraria 6 (1984): 19-35; Charles Segal, "The Mytl1 Was Saved: Reflections on Homer and the Mythology of Plato's Republic," Hermes 106 ( 1978): 315-56; Ellen Meiksins Wood and Neal Wood , Class ldeology a11d A11cient Political Theo1-y: Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle in Social Cot1tcxt (New York: Oxford U niversity Press, 1978). 42. R epublic 378c and 386bc. 43. Got-gillS 502c. 44. Phaedru.s 265ab, Ton 533d-534c, and Laws 7L9c. 45. Republic 377a: "ftUGouc; A.Eyo~tCV, TOUTO liE 1tOU clx; TO oA.ov cirtetv ~JEiiooc;, EVl OE xa\ aA.11G~." Cf. Republic 522a. 46. Phaedo 61b: "evvo~aac; on -rov 1tOlJ1T~v Mot, drtcQ ~ti:A.A.otrtO llJT~<; &lvat, rtmei'v ~ttleouc;, an· oti :l.oyouc;." 47. Sophist 242cd and Gorgias 493a. 48. l'haedrus 237a: ""AyCTI:: 0~, ro Moiioat ... A.6pea9e TOii ~tU9oU, OV liE avayxa/;et 0 ~&A.-rtoToc; otiTool Ai:yetv." 49. Pbaedms 247 c: "Tov liE UTtEQOUQOVlOV T01t0V OUTC nc; Ull VTJOE 1t0l TWV -rnoe 1tOlJ1T~ OUT!:: TtOTE UIIV~<JEl xa-r' a~iav, €X,et oi: rolie. TOAIITJTEOV YOQ oi'iv TO ye aA.Tj9i:c; el1tetV, aA.Aroc; TE xal TtCQL a:l.tl9el.ac; A.EyovTa." 50. Critias 107ab, Gorgias 523a- 527a, Phaedo l l Ob, Republic 382d, and Timaetts 29cd. 51. Rcpttblic 603b, Laws 664a, and Statesman 304d. 52. R epublic 376e- 377c: "Tic; ouv it natoeia; 1) x.aA.&nov ctiQeiv ~Ehiro Ti;<; tirto -roii noA.A.oii x.Q6vou I::UQ'lflEV'lc;; iian lie nou 1i ~tev enl oro~taot yu~tvaanx~. ~ I>' enl ~mx.ii pouatx~. "BaTt yaQ. ..AQ' oi'iv oti fw uatxii rtQ6TI::QOV OQ~o~teGa rtatlieoovTe<; il yu~tvaanxji;

228

229

~y X.QOvoc;, o-r' ~v OTOJ T~V a· U~QlV OoUA.TjY h'll &/;lllllOUTO o' cl nc; E~OIIOQTOVOt. em::tT' en&tlil] TOflQJOY~ IIEY oi YOflOl an&iQyov OUTO\x; EQYO lllJ 1tQO<J<JElV ~lot, :l.aGQOI o' C1tQO<J<JOY, TJ1YlXCIUTQ 1101 lioxet nuxv6c; nc; xal aocp(x; yvoi~t'lV av~Q [yviii~tat] <0&iiiv> Moe; 0YJ1TOt<JlY E~&UQ&tv, onroc; &l11 Tl li&i~ta Tote; xaxoim, xiXv A.ci9Qat 7tQOooromv ti :\.Eyrootv ~ qJQOVOOl . evT&ii9&v ouv To Gdov &i<J 'lY~<JaTo , We; E<JTl OCilflOlV acp9i TOll 96Urov ~I. rot, VO(I)l T' axo&ov xal ~A.Enrov, QlQOViiiV -r' ayav 7tQOacx.rov TE TOUTO, xal QlU<JlV eciav qJOQiiiV, Oc; rtiiv TO A.qOi:v ~QOTOtc; OXOU<JETOl, OQW~t&vov liE rtiiv i.oetv liuv~ae-rat, eav Iii: auv cr ty~t Tl ~ouA.&UTJtc; xaxov, TOiiT' otix.l A.1']oet Tolx; G&oUc;· TO yaQ cpQovoiiv cvean. Touaoe -roUe; A.Oyouc; A.Eycov OtliOYflOTOOY i]litOTOY &i<J'lY~<JOTO l)Jeuliei xa:\.ul)Jac; TllV aA.~Oetav A.6yrot. YCilElY o' ecpaaxe Tolx; 9&olx; EYTaii9', 'i va flO A.toT' av E~E1tA1l~I::Y av9Q001tOU<; A.eyrov, Mev 1tEQ eyvco TO\x; cpo~ouc; ov-rac; ~QOTOt<; xal Ta<; ov~aetc; -riiit Ta:l.atTtoiQrot ~trot , ex Tfic; U1ti::Q91:: 1ti::QlqJOQiic;. '(y' O<JTQ01tOc; XCITclOI::Y OUoac;, Ol::tYO !)(; XTUTt ~IIOTO ~QOYT~c;. To -r' O<JTI::Qrom)v otiQavoii llE~tac;, XQovou xa:l.ov noi.xt:l.~ta TExTovoc; aocpoii, o9cv Tl:: A.a~trtQOc; O<JTEQOc; OTclX,Et IIOOQOc; 0 a· tiyQoc; eic; y~v Oll~Qoc; EXTtOQEUI::TOl. TOtOU<; OE Ttf:QlE<JTTj<J&Y OY9Q001t0t<; cpO~OU<;, lit' oUc; xa:l.iiic; -re Tiiit A.Oyrot xaToitxto&v TOY liat~tOY OU xav 1tQE1tOYTl X.OlQlCOl, T~Y OYOillOY TE TOte; YOIIOtc; XOTE<J~E<J&Y. ooTro Iii: rtQiiiTov o'lo~tat Tt&toai nva GvtlTO\x; vo~ttl;etv oat~tovrov e'i vat yevoc;.

ev

Notes to Pages 42- 48

Notes to Pages 49 -52

n iiil; li' ou; Moootx~c; li' cimov TtGqc; A.6youc;. i\ ou· "Eywyc. A.6ycov lie OITTOV etlioc;, TO J.IEV OA119Ec;, tjl&ulioc; li' ih&QOV; Nat. n atli&UTEOV li' ev ci~t cpOTCQOL<; , TIQOT&QOV li' EV TOt<; ~J&UOEOtv; Ou ~·av9avw, Ecpfl, 1t~ A.Cyetc;. Ou ~tav9av&tc;, ~v li' eyoo, OTl TIQiiiTOV Tote; natlitOL<; ~n)9ouc; A.i:yo~ICV, TOUTO liE TIOU roc; TO OAOV &i.n&i:v tjleulioc;, CVI liE xal. 0Af19ii; 1tQO"CEQOV lie J.!U9otc; 1tQO<; Tel 1t0\0ta i\ YWtvao[otc; XQcOJ.leea. "EoTL TaUTa. TouTO li~ cA.cyov, OTI J.!OUOLX!ic; 1tQOTeQOV 01t"CEOV i\ YUJ.!VaOTLX~c;. 'OQ9iiil;, £cpq. Ouxouv oio9' OTI OQX~ TiaVToc; EQYOU J.IEYLOTOV, aA.A.~ Te li~ xal VE(!l xal anaA.(ii OT(!lOUv; J.IUALOTa YelQ li~ TOTe 1tAUTTeTat xal evliui:.Tat Ttmoc;, ov av Tt<; ~OUAT]Tat eVOT]J.ITJVao9at EXUOT(!l. Koj.ltliii J.ICV oi'iv, 'AQ' oi'iv QQOl~ OUT(J) TtaQllOOJ.leV TO\x; emTUXOVTac; UTIO Tiiiv emTU;(OVT(J)V J.l690tx; nA.aoeevTac; OXOU&LV TO\x; na11iac; xal Aaj.l~UVELV EV Tate; t)Juxatc; roc; en!. TO TIOAU evav-c(ac; li6~ac; exdvatc;, ac;, eTtetliclv TeA&w9iiiotv, E;(elV Olll00J.!E9a liei:v auTotx;; Ouli' 01t(J)OTlOUV TiaQTJOOJ.leV. n QiiiTOV li~ ~J.ltV, Ox; COIXeV, E1tlOTOT1FEOV TOte; ~IU001tOLOtc;, xa! ov J.IEV &v xaA.Oc; 1t0tll0WO IV, EyxQITEOV, ov li' av J.lll, OTIOXQITEOV' TO\x; li' eyXQL0EVTac; 1tel00~1EV Telc; TQOCpo6c; Te xat J.lflTEQac; Aeyl':tV TOt<; Ttatot xal.TtAUTTetV TOe; t)Ju;celc; auTiiiv TOte; ~·6eou; TIOAU J.IOAAOV i\ Tel O~lJ.laTO Tate; ;(eQOtV, oov Iii: v\iv Ai:.yooot To\x; noAA.o\x; F.x~AflTEOv." 53. Republic 378c, 380c, 39 1e, 392b, Laws 941 b. 54. Republic 378e, Laws 660a, 840b. 55. Republic 379a, 392b, LaJVs 660a.

University of Chicago Press, 1976), pp. 31- 65; Ulrich Muhlack, "Die Germanin im dcutschen Nationalbewusstscin vor dcm 19. Jahrhu ndcrt," in Herbert )an kuhn and Dieter Timpe, ed., Beitriige z 1111l Ve1'stiindr1is der Gennn11ia des Tacitus (Gotti ngcn: Vandcnhoeck and Ruprecht, 1989), l: 128- 54; Klaus von Sec, Barbar, Germane, Arie1·: Die Suche nach der ldentitiit Deu.tschm (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1994), pp. 31- 82; and Martin Thom, R epublics, Nations, a11d Tribes (London: Verso, 1995), pp. 212 - 21. 3. Cited in Ride, "!..1 Gennania," p. 279. Humboldt was referring not only to the Germmlia but also to the Amm!r 2. 10, 15- 17,88 (cf. Dio Cassius 56. 18.5- 22.2). Rediscovered in 1509, tl1is text described Arminius's defeat of three Roman legions in the Tcutoburger Wald (9 c. E.), an event German nationalists elevated to the status of a foundation mytl1. See fu rther Andreas Dorner, Politischer Mythos zmd symbolischc Politik: Sinmtiftzmg durch symbotiscbe Formm (Opladen: Westdcutschcr Verlag, 1995). 4. Annius ofVitcrbo (Giovanni Na1mi) Berosi cbnldneisace~·dotis ReliqtiOI'It11Ujue cousimilis ar.tJtlmmti automm: De Mltiquitnte Italiae, ac totius o1·bis, cum F. loa11. A1mij Viterbensis theologi commmtntion (Lugduni: 1oannem Tcmporalem, 1554). On tllis text, sec Friedrich Gotthelf, Das deutscbe Altertt1111 in den Anscbatwngen des sechzelmte11 1111d siebsebnten ]nhrlnmde~·ts (Berlin, 1900 ), pp. 6 fi; Leo Wiener, Colm·ibutiom toward a History of ArabicoGotbic Culttlt·e, Vol. 3: Tacitm' Germanin and Other Forgeries (New York: Neale, 1920 ), pp. 174 ff.; Ludwig Krapf, Germanmmythos zmd Reichsidcologic: Friihhnmatti.rtische Rezeptionsweism de1· taciteiscbcn ,Germattia» (Tlibingen: Max Niemeyer, 1979), pp. 61 W.; and

U. Muhlack "Die Gcrmania in dcutschcn NationalbcwuBtscin vor dem 19. Jahrhunderr," in H erbert Jankuhn and Dieter Timpe, cds., Beitriige zum Vcrstiindtlis der Genuauia des 1ilcitzts (Gottingen: Vandenhoeck and Ruprecht, 1989), 1:128 - 54, csp. 138. On Berosus, sec the discussion in Hu bert Cauncik and Helmuth Sch neider, cds. , De1·· ueuc Pauzy: Enzyklopiidie der Antike (Stuttgart: ]. B. Metzler, 1996- ), 2:579 - 80. 5 . Germm1in 2: "Celebrant carminibus antiquis (quod unum apud illos rncmoriae et annalium genus est) Tuisconcm deum terra editum, et filiu m Mannum, originem gcnris conditorcsque" (emphasis added). 6. "lnitium ergo Philosophiae a Barbaris non a Graecis fucrit." 7. The first manuscript of tl1e Poetic Edda was found in Iceland in 1643. Twenty years later, it entered the royal collection in Copenhagen, where it became more widely known. Swedish troops looted the Codex Argemim from Prague in 1648, at the conclusion of the Thirty Years' War, and carried it back to Uppsala. In 1664, the first commentary on Saxo Grammaticus's History of De11111Mk appeared , and in the following year, the first edition of Snorri Sturluson's P1·osc Edda. 8. See the discussion and the materials collected in the invaluable work of Burton Feldman and Robert D. Richardson, eds., The Rise of Modem Mythology, 1680- 1860 ( Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1972). 9. On Vico, sec Isaiah Berlin , Vico and Herde~·: Two Studies i11 the Histot·y of Idens (New York: Viking Press, 1976); and Joseph Mali, 71Je nebnbilitation ofMyth: Vico's "New Science" (Cambridge: Cambridge Un iversity Press, 1992). l 0. The first volume of Mallet's work bore rhe subtitle Otll'on tmite de ln. religion, des loix des 1110em·s et des usage!' des a11ciem Dm10is and showed considerable interest in mytl1. Volume 2, Momtmens de Ia mythologie et de In poesie des Celtes, et pm·tiwlicremeut des m1ciem Scat~di11aves, was explicitly devoted to the topic . 11 . On Mallet, sec von Sec, Bm·bar, Germa11e, Arie1; pp. 73 - 75; and Feldman and Richardson, Rise ofModem Mythology, pp. 199- 201. Altl1ough dared, Paul van Ticghem, L c Preromnmisme: Etudes d'bistoi1·e littemire europ&em1e (Paris: SFELT, 1947), pp. I 09 - 30, retains considerable interest. 12. James Macpherson, Fmgmmts ofAtttient Poetl'y collected i11 the Highlands ofScotland and translated from the Gaelic or Ene Langttagc (1760), Fittgal: an Ancient Epic Poem in Six Books; Together with SeJICI'fll other poems, composed by Ossian the son of Fiugnl ( 1762 ), and 1/:mom (1763). See Feldman and Richardson, R ise of Modern Mythology, pp. 201 - 2; van Ticghem, Le Preroma11Nsme, pp. 197-287; and Howard Gaskill, ed., Ossim1 Re11isited (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 199 1). More broadly, see Katie Trumpcner, Bardic Nationalism: The Romautic Novel and the B1·itisb Empi1·e ( Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1997). 13. On Hamann, sec Isaial1 Berlin, The Magus of the North: j G. Hn.ma1111 aud the Origim of Modem Jrmtimmlism (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1993 ); L.1rry Vaughan, johann Georg Hamam1: Metaphysi cs of Latlflttage and Visio11 of Histo1-y (New York: Peter Lang, 1989 ); Terence German, Hamatm on Latlflllage and Religio11 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1981); and Stephen Dunning, The Totlfltles of Metl: Hegel and Hnmmm on Religious Latlflllllge and History (Missoula, MT: Scholars Press, 1979). 14. There is a large and excellent bibliography on Herder, altl10ugh some of it is rather dated. Among the works 1 have found usefu l are Regine Otto, ed., Natio11&11 zmd Kulturm: Zmn 250. Geburtstag joJmtm Gottfried Herders (Wlirzburg: Konigshausen and Neumann, 1996); Thomas de Zengotita, "Speakers of Being: Romantic Refusion and Cultural Anthropology," in George Stock.iJ1g, cd., Romantic Moti11es: Essays on Amhropological Sensibility (Madison: University ofWisconsin Press, 1989), pp. 74 - 123, csp. pp. 86-94; Heinz Gockel, "H erder und die Mythologic," in Gerhard Sauder, ed., ]obann Gottft·ied Herder, 1744- 1803

230

23 1

Chapter 3 1. The standard work on this process is Jean Sczncc, TIJc Sm·11ival oftbe Pagau Gods: The Tmditim~ tmd I ts Place in Rmaissance H m uanism aud Art (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1972). More recent and even more useful is 1'cter Bietenholz, "HistoMytbical

t·ia» aud "Fabula »: Myths a~1d Legmds in Historical 7.1Jought from A lttiquity to the Modem Age (Leiden: E. ]. Brill, 1994). 2. Piccolomini's tractate was entitled D e 1·itu, situ, moribus et condicioue Germauiae descriptio and responded to a formal letter of complaint written by Martin Mair, chancellor to the archbishop of Mainz. On the early reception of the Gemumin, see ]. Ride," La Gcrmania d'Enea Silvio Piccolomini et Ia 'Reception' de Tacite en Allemagne," Etudesgermauiques 19 (1964): 274 - 82; Kenneth C. Schellhase, Tacittls i11 Rennissat1ce Political Thought (Chicago:

Notes to Pages 52-53

Notes to Pages 53-54

(Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 1987), pp. 409 - 18; Wulf Koepke, "Kultunmtio~t and Irs Au tho· rization through Herder," in W. Koepke, ed., ]ohrm11 Gottj7-ied H erder: Academic Discipliues and the Ptmuit of Knowledge (New York: Camden H ouse, 1996), pp. 177- 98; Berlin, Vico and Herder; Valerio Verra, Mito, Rivelaziotle e Filosofia i11 J G. Herder e net mo tempo (Milan: Marzorati, 1966 ); F. M. Barnard, H erder's Social aud Political Thought: From Eulightemnmt to Natio~talism (Oxford: 1965); Robert T. Clark, Herder: His Life aud Thought (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1955); and Alexander Gillies, H erdet· und Ossian (Berlin: Juncker and Dlinnhaupr, 1933). Herder's interest in MaUer was manitcsred in his review of d1e latter's work (1765); his concern wim Macpherson, in "Extract fi·om a Correspondence about Ossian and me Songs of Ancient Peoples" (1773), " Homer and Ossian" ( 1795), and others. 15. Amo ng earlier works, note "Uber dcu Ursprung der Sprachc" (1770), "Auszug aus ei nem Briefwechsel iibcr Ossian u nd die Lieder alter Volker" (1773), "Auch cine Philosophic der Geschichrc zur Bildung der Menschheit" ( 1774 ), "Stimmcn dcr Volker in Liedern (Yolkslieder)" (1774-78), and "Uber die Wirkung der Dichtkunst auf die Sitten der Volker in alren und neuen Zeiten" (1778). 16. I have used d1c edition of Martin Bollachcr, ed., vol. 6 of Johann Gottfried Herder, IM:rke (Frankli.1rt am Main : Deutscher Klassiker Verlag, 1989). Unfortunately, the most readily available edition in E nglish, Johann Gottfi·ied von Herder, R ejlect·iotts on the PIJilosophy of the Histm·y of Ma~tkind, ed. Frank Manuel (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968), is severel)' abridged and contains a translation dating fi·om 1800. 17. This was a d1in ly veiled critique of ilie views Kant advanced in his essays " Von den verschicdencn Raccn dcr Menschen" (Schrijte11 [1775] 1910), 2:427-44, and " Bestimmung des Begriffs einer Menschcnrace" (Schriftm [ 1785] 1910), 8:89- 106. In his review (8: 60), Kant responded to his former student and restated his view of skin color and race as vitally important principles for categorizing humanity. Kant and Herder were in fu ndamental agreement on the u nity of d1c human species; they differed on whether tl1e species sho uld be subcategorized by race (Kant, follow ing Bufton) or Volk (Herde r). Bod1 acknowledged the importance of physiology and environment; to ilicse, Herder added language, collective memory, and prehistoric experience. See further E ric Voegclin, TIJe Histo1-y oftiJe Race idea fmm R ay to Cams ( Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1998), pp. 66 - 79 and 137- 4 1; and Ivan Hannaford, Race: The Histm·y of an Idea in tbc l#st (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996), pp. 187- 33, csp. pp. 218- 24 and 229- 32. 18. The biblical paradigm for Herder's theories may be perceived as early as in his 1768 letter to Hamann, where he expressed interest in developing a hermeneutic for d1c Book of Genesis that would use it to show "how we [i.e., mankind] developed from creanu·cs of God into what we are, htmiMI creatures" (cited in Clark, Het·der, p. 163). The fi.llllcttcr is found in Otto Hoffmann, cd., H erders Briefe ar~ ]oiJ. Georg Hamanr~ (Berlin: R. Gaertner, 1889), pp. 39-46. 19. He cites me (Pseudo-)H ippocratic n·catise 011 Airs, Waters, and Places as his prime inspiration at 2.6.3 and 2.7.3. A nearer source is d1e fourtcenm book of Montesquicu's Essay 011 the LaJVs, wid1 which he was well acquainted. 20. Herder's subdc and ingenious argument on this last point tries to contain his am bivalence about human unity and diversity. Briefly, he maintained that climate (particularly, levels of heat and cold) first produces change at the body's most superficia l levels, i.e., d1e hair and d1e skin. Over long periods of time d1e effects penetrate deeper to transform skeletal strucn1re (d1c shape of the skull and nose, e.g.), but the essential unity of mankind pe rsists at the body's deepest levels, for internal organs, being less exposed to the clements, do not come to diftcr by Volk. (See Idem 2.7. 1-5 and 2.8.1, esp . 2.7.4, in Werke ). T he myths and languages

ofthe world's Vb"lker presum ably show the same pattern of surface diflcrentiation and more profound commonalities. 21. O n heredity, sec idem 2.7.4. Most dramatic is d1e following assertion. "Thus even d1e Negro form is transmitted hereditarily and can only be changed back genetically. Place the Moor in Europe: he remains what he is. If he marries a white woman, a single generation will produce changes that the bleaching eftccts of the climate could not accomplish in centuries. So it is with the Bildtmgm of all Volket·: regions change them very slowly; but through intermixture wim foreign natio ns, all the characteristic traits of Mongolians, Chinese, and Americans disappear in a few generations." [Eben daher gchet die Ncgergestalt auch crblich liber und kann nur gcnetisch zuriickverandcrt werden. Setzer den Mohren nach Europa; er bleibt, was er ist: verheiratct ihn aber mit cincr WciBen und cine Generation wird verandern, was )ahrh undertc hindurch das bleichende Klima nicht wiirdc gctan habcn. So ists mit den Bildungen aller Volker; die Wcltgegcnd verandcrt sic au Berst Iangsam: durch die Vcrmischung mit fremdcn Nationen verschwinden in wenigen Gcschlcchtcrn aile Mo ngolischen, Chi ncsischcn, Amerikanischen Zligc] (p. 276). 22. !dew 2.8.2: " Man halte die Gronlandische mit der Indischen, die LappHindische mit dcr }apanischcn, die Pcruanische mit der Negcrmythologie zusammcn; cine vollige Geographic dcr dichrc ndcn Sccle. Dcr Bramine wlirde sich kaum ein Bild denken konncn, wenn man ihm die Voluspa der Islander vorHisc und crkliirtc; dcr Islander fiinde beim Wedam sich eben so fi·emde. Jedcr Nation ist ihre Vorstcllungsart um so ticfcr eigenpragt, weil sic ihr eigcn, mit ihrem Himmel und ihrer Erde vcnvandt, aus ihrer Lcbensart cnrsprosscn, von Viircrn und Urvatern auf sic vcrerbt ist. Wobei cin Fremdcr am meistcn staunt, glaubcn sic am dcutlichstcn zu bcgreifcn: wobei cr lacht, sind sic hochst ernsthaft. Die lndier sagen, daB das Schicksal des Mcnschen in scin Gchirn gcschrieben sci, dessen fcinc Striche die unlcsbaren Lettern aus dem Buch des Vcrhangnisses darstellten; oft sind die willklirlichstcn NationalBcgriftc und Mcinungcn solche Hirngemaldc, cingewebte Zlige der Phantasic vom fcs tcstcn Zusammcnhange mit Lcib und Seele. "Woher dieses? Hat jedcr Einzclne diescr Menschenherdcn sich seine Myiliologie erfundcn, daB cr sic ctwa sic scin Eigcntum Liebe? Mit nichten. Er hat niclm in ihr crfi.mdcn, er hat sic geerbt. H atte er sic durch cigncs Nachdcnken zuwcgcbracht: so ko nnte cr auch durch cigncs Nachdenkcn vom Schlcchtcrn zum Bcsscrn gcfiihrt werd en; das ist abcr hier der Fall nicht" (p. 298). 23. Idem 2.7.5 announces this grand endeavor: "If this research program was pursued mrough the well-attested centuries, we would probably reach conclusions concerning still earlier WJ/k-migrations, of which we have knowledge only fro m d1c sagas of ancient authors o r the correspondences fou nd in language and myiliology. In f.1ct, all-or at least, mostof the nations upon Earth sooner or later migrated. So, with some maps for consultation, we should obtain a physico-geographical history of the descmt and diversification ofotlt· species following different climates and eras, which at every step must present us wid1 d1c most important results." [Wlirde diescr untcrsuchende Calcul durch die gewissern Jahrhundcrre fortgesctzt: so lie Ben sich viellcicht auch Schllissc auf jene altern Volkcrziigc machcn, die wir nur aus Sagen alter Schriftstellcr odcr aus Obcrcinstimmungen der M yiliologie und Sprache kcnncn: denn im Gru.nde sind aile oder doch die meistcn Nationcn der Erdc fhiher oder sparer gewandcrt. Und so bckamcn wir, mit einigcn Chartcn zur Anschauung, ei11c pbysischgeographische Gcschichte det· Abstammtmg tmd Vcrarttmg tmsres Geschelechts nach Klimaten und Zcitcn, die Schritt vor Schritt die wichtigsten Resultatc gewahrcn mliBte] (p. 281 ). 24. For H erder's rejection of racial categories, his idea of human unity, and understanding of Volk, sec ldeen 2.7.1; on climate, 2.7.2-5; on Nationalbildtmg and tradition, 2.8.1-3; on language, 1.4.3 and 2.9.2; on myth and the diversity of Viilkcr, 2.8.2 and 2.9.5; on myd1 ,

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Notes to Pages 55-56

Notes to Pages 56-57

language, and original unity, 2.7.5 and 2.9.2; on centml Asia as the original human homeland , 2.10.2 -7. 25. French victories over Prussia at Jcna and Aucrstadt ( 1806) made clear that the capacity to mobilize a nation for war through the /epee m masse gave France superiority over even the largest and best-trained armies of the fragmented German polities. For Germany to compete on the battlefield, it was obvious that a higher level of social integration was neccssaly, with cultural , political, and military institutions to match. Fichte articulated this in his Add1·esses to the German Nation. (1807- 8), and many rallied to his position during the Wars ofLiberation (181 3-15). 26. Even so, certain fracture lines remained. Germans often tended to associate themselves with the (politically fragmented, but philosophically and literarily gifted ) Greeks while aligning their French rivals with the (militarily and politically potent, but culturally and intellectually inferior) Romans. Sec the classic work of Eliza Butler, 71Je Tyrrmny of Greece 011er Germany (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1935). 27. Friedrich Schlegel, Ube1· die spmche tmd !#isheit der Indie1·: Ei11 Beitrag Ztlr Begrii.ndtmg der Alterthmnsktmde (Heidelberg: Mohr and Zimmer, 1808). Schlegel (1772-1829) was the first well-known German to learn Sanskrit, followed by his brother August (17671845), who held the first university chair in the subject. Together, tl1cy were instrumental in conveying an cntl1usiasm for India and the Aryans to leading romantics of the early 1800s. On German lndomania, sec Dietmar Rotl1crmund, The Gennan Irmllectual Q;mt for fttdia (New Delhi: Manohar, 1986); Jean W. Sedlar, India i11 the Mind ofGermatly: Schelling, Scho· penhauer a11d 71Jei1· Times (Washington, DC: University Press of America, 1982 ); ReneGerard, L'Orier1t et la pcusec t·oumtttirpte allemande (Paris: M. Didkr, 1963 ); Raymond Schwab, La Renaissrmce orientale (Paris: Payor, 1950), and Suzanne Sommerfeld, Indiemchrw tmd Indimdettttmg romantischer Philosophm (Glarus: Tschudi, 1943). Also useful arc Pranabcndra Nath Ghosh ,johann Gottfried Herder's Image of India (Santinikctan: Visva-Bharati Research Publications, 1990); and Thomas Trautmann, At·yatls and British India (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), who contrasts relative British disinterest in Indian civilization with the German obsession. 28. Adding to Germans' sense of Jews as an alien Volk is the fact tl1at emancipation from tl1c ghetto came tlu·ough the intervention of Napoleonic armies. As a result, Germans came to associate the Jews with other foreign clements tl1ey hated and feared, France and its values of tl1e Enlightenment. 29. Ideen, 3.12.3: "Das Yolk Gottcs, dcm einst dcr Himmel sclbst scin Vatcrland schcnktc, ist Jahrtauscnde her, ja £1st seit seiner Entstchung cine parasitischc Pflanzc auf den Stammen andrer Nationcn; cin Gcschlechtschlauer Untcrhandler beinah auf dcr ganzcn Erdc, das trotz allcr Untcrdri.ickung nirgcnd sich nach cigner Ehrc und Wohnung, nirgcnd nach cinem Vatcrlande sehnet" (pp. 491-92 ). Altl10ugh Herder made free usc of many antiSemitic stereotypes, his theoretical apparatus led him to view the Jews' long estrangement from their land as the chief cause oftl1eir problems and troublesome characteristics. As such, he advocated a homeland as tl1e solution to the "Jewish problem," a stance which has led some to read him as philo-Semitic. For diftcrcnt views, sec Ernest Menze, "Herder and the 'Jewish Nation'-Continuity and Supersession," in Otto, Nationm tmd Kttlttwen, pp. 47186; and Lawrence Rose, Revolutionat-y Antisemitism in Germa11y from Kant to Wagner (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1990), pp. 97-109. 30. In a huge literature, tl1c following strike me as particularly important: von Sec, BMbat~ Germaue, Arier; Maurice Olender, The Langttages of Paradise: Race, Religion, and Philology it1 the Nineteenth Cmtury, trans. Artllllr Goldhammer (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992); George Mossc, Towat·d the Final Solutiotl: A History of Ettropeall Racism (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1985); Rutl1 Romer, Sprachwissemchaft

tmd Rassmideologic itl Detttschlatld (Munich: W. Fink, 1985 ); M .- L. R.ostaert, "Etymologic et ideologic: Des rcflcts du nationalisme sur Ia lcxicologie allemande, 1830-1914," Historio· graphia li1Jg1tistica 6 ( 1979); and Leon Poliakov, The Aryan Myth:~ Hirtory of Racist awt. Natioualist Ideas in Ettrope, trans. Edmund Howard (New York: Bas1c, 1974). Also useful, 1f polemic and overstated, is Martin Bernal, Bltuk Athena: The Afroasiatic Roots of C:lassical CiPilization. Vol. 1: The Fabrication of Ancient Greece, 1785-1985 (New Bnmsw1ck, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1987). Two publications of Stefan Arvidsson arc also of importance: "Ariska gudinnor och man i cxtas: Den indoeuropeiska mytologin mcllan modcrnitet och rcaktion" (Ph.D . diss., Lund University, Institute for the History of Religions), and "Aryan Mythology as Science and Ideology," ]ottmal ofthe American Academy ofReligim 67 (1999): 327-54. . . . 31. The best studies to date of nineteenth-century approaches to myth are Mana Patnz1a Bologna, Rice1·ca etimologica e ricostrttzione wltumle: Aile m·igini della mitologia compamta (Pisa: Giardini, 1988); Feldman and Richardson, Rise of Modem Mythology. 32. The nationalist interests in the Brotl1ers Grimm's collection of Hawmii1·chm have been discussed by Christa Kunenctsky, The Brothers GTimm a~1d 71Jeir Ct·itics: Folktales a11d the Qpcst for Meani11g (Atl1ens: Ohio University Press, 1992); Jack Zipcs, The Brothers G1·imm: Fmm Er1chamed Forest to the Modem World (New York: Routledge, 1988); and most aggressively, John Ellis, One Fairy Stm)' Too Ma11y: The Brothers Grimm a11d Theit· Tales (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985). Sec also Lothar Bluhm, Die Bn"ider Grimm tmd der Begirm der Dcutschm Philologie: Eine Studie zu Kommtmikation 1md Wissenschaftsbildtmg im fn"ihm 19. ]ah1·hm1dert (Hildcshcim: Weidmann, 1997); Roland Feldmann, Jacob Grimm 1md die Politik (Ciausthal-Zcllcrfcld: Boneckc-Druck, 1969); and Klaus von Sec, "Sprachgeschichtc als Gcschichte des Volksgcistes: Jacob Grimm," in Ba1·bar, Gennm1e, Ariel~ pp. 13740. 33. Jacob Grimm, Dctttsche Mythologie, 4 vols. (Berljn: F. Dlimmler, 1835; 4tl1 cd., l 87578), English translation by james Stallybrass under tl1c title Tmtonic Mythology (London : George Bell, 1883-88). 34. This argument, largely subtcxtual at first, was rendered powerfully explicit in the pre£1cc Grimm added to the second edition (1844); sec pp. l - 12 in the English translation. 35. On Wagner, I have made usc of Marc Weiner, Richat·d Wagne1· and the Ami-Semitic [magination (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1995); Barry Millington, The Wagne1· Compendium: A Guide to Wagner's Life and Mttsic (New York: Schirmer, 1992); Lawrence Rose, Wagner: ltace and R e11olution (New H avcn: Yale University Press, 1992 ), Revolutionary Antisemitism in Germany; Robert Gutman, Richard Wagner: The Mar~, His Mir~d, a11d His Music (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich, 1990); Martin van Amcrongcn, Wagner: A Case Histm'y (New York: George Brazillcr, 1984 ); David Large and William Weber, cds., Wag· ·n erism in Em·opean Cttlture and Politics (Itl1aca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1984); Theo· dor Adorno, In Search ofWagnet~ trans. Rodney Livingstone (London: Verso, 1981); Jacques Barzun, Dm·111in, Marx, Wagner (New York: Doubleday, 1958); and George Bernard Shaw, The Perfect Wagnerite: A Commentary on the Niblttng's Ring (London: Constable, 1923). In addition to the essays cited below, sec "Art and Revolution" (1849), "Art and Climate" (1849), "Opera and Drama" ( 1850-51). Wagner spoke rapturously of the eftect Grimm's work had on him in My Life, autl10rized tmns. (New York: Tudor, 1936), p. 314. Cf. Cosima Wagner's Dia~·ies, trans. Geoffrey Skelton (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1978-80), 1 :321. 36. "The Artwork of the Future," in The Art· Work ofthe Fttttt.re and Other Works, trans. W. Ashton Ellis (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1993), pp. 69- 213. 37. Ibid. , p. 75. On Fcucrbach's influence on Wagner, sec Rose, Wagner: Race a11dRevo· ltttion, pp. 58 - 60.

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Notes to Pages 57-61

Notes to Pages 61 - 62

38. Ludwig Fcucrbach, The Essence ofCbristitmity, trans. George Eliot {Amherst, NY: Prometheus, 1989), pp. 112- 19. 39. Ibid., pp. 114- 15. Cf. his identification of egoism as the principle that lies at the very foundation of Judaism (p. 112) and Jehovah as "nothing but the personified selfishness of the lsraelitish people" (p. 114). On Feuerbach's anti-Semitism, sec Rose, Revolutioual) Amisemitism in Germa11y, pp. 253 - 56. 40. "Judaism in Music," in Richard Wagner, On Music a11d Drama, trans. W. Ashton Ellis (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1992), pp. 51- 59. 41. Cf. Wagner's letter to Franz Liszt (18 Apr. 1851) i\ propos of this essay. " I harboured a long suppressed resentment against this Jewish business, and this resentment is as necessary to my nature as gall is to the blood. The immediate cause of my intense annoyance was their damned scribblings, so that I fi nally let fly: I seem to have snuck home with terrible force, which suits my purpose admirably, since that is precisely the sort of shock that I wanted to give them. For they will always remain our masters- that much is as certain as the fact that it is not our princes who arc now our masters, but bankers and philistines" (Selected Letters ofRichard Wagucr, trans. Stewart Spencer and Barry Millington [New York: W. W. Norton, 1887 j, pp. 221 - 22). Thirty years later (22 Nov. 1881), he wrote to King Ludwig II of Bavaria in a similar vein: " I consider the Jewish race the born enemy of pure humanity and all that is noble in man: there is no doubt but that we Germans especially will be destroyed by them, and I may well be the last remaining German who, as an artist, has known how to hold his ground in the face of a Judaism which is now all-powerful" (p. 918). 42. In the early 1840s Wagner purchased Herder's works, but it is not certain he actually read them (Millington, Waguer Compendimn, p. 150). lfnot, he could have assimilated H erder's ideas in countless other ways, for by tlus time tl1ey had thoroughly permeated intcllccnml and popular discourse. 43. Wagner, Art-Work of the Future, pp. 164 -166. 44. Ibid., p. 207. 45. l bid., pp. 209- 13. 46. "The Wibelungen: World-History as Told in Saga," in Richard Wagner, Pilgrimage to Bcctho11en n11d Other Essays, trans. W. Ashton Ellis ( Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1994), pp. 257- 98. 47. T he pretense of linguistic analysis shows how far the game of mythico-philological reconstruction had penetrated general culture. Thus, Wagner derives German Nibeltmgeu and Italian Ghibeli11i from a protoform * Wibeli11gm, and traces Italian Gtle/fi to German Welfen ("whelps"). He then explains tl1e transformation of initial German n- to *w- as an assimilation to the w- of Weljen by way of Stabreim. The reason none of tl1csc imaginary forms arc attested, he suggests, is that tl1cy survive and arc explained only in viilkisch sources (presumably oral traditions, but in truth no more than his own funtasy). Ibid ., pp. 267- 68. 48. !bid., pp. 259 - 60 and 277-84, respectively. In tl1e first formulation, he sought to mediate claims for india and those for tl1c Caucasus. The former, "Asian" claim, gestures toward Sir William Jones and Friederich Schlegel; its "Caucasian" counterpart, toward biblical traditions of Noah's Ark on Mt. Ararat. Troy enters the picture by virtue of Roman, Frankish, and Scandinavian legends tracing tl1eir national origin to diasporic Trojans. Sec fu rther chap. 4. 49. Wagner noted "the striking likeness" of this pattern "to Christ himself, the Son of God, tl1at he roo died, was mourned and avenged,-as we still avenge Christ on tl1e Jews of today" (ibid., p . 287). 50. Artur, Comtc de Gobineau, Essni mr l'i11egalite des mces hmnait~cs, 2 vols., 2d cd. (Paris: Finnin-Didot, 1884). On tl1c friendship of Wagner and Gobineau, sec Gutman, Richard Waguer, pp. 418 - 20; Rose, Wagt~er: Race a11d Rel!olmiorl, pp. 138- 41.

51. Houston Stewart Chamberlain, Diegnmdlageu des ueuuzelmte11 jahrlnmde~·ts (Munich: F. Bruckmann, 1899); Ludwig Schema1111, Die Gobi11enu-sammltmg der Kaiserlichen Uuivet·sitiits- 1md Ltmdes-Bibliothek zu Strassburg (Strassburg: K. J. TrUbner, 1907). On Chamberlain, sec GeofFrey G. Field, Eva,welist ofRace: The Germauic Vision of Houston Stewm-t Chambel"laiu (New York: Columbia University Press, 1981 ); and for his influence on tl1e Nazi party, Alfr·cd Rosenberg, Housto11 Stewart Chambel"lah1 als verkii11der und begrii.nde~· eiuer deutschen zuktmft (MUnchcn: Bruckn1ann, 1927). On tl1e Bayrcutl1 ci rcle in general, sec David Large, "Wagner's Bayreuth Disciples," in David Large and William Weber, cds., Wag11erism in European Culttlre and Politics {ltl1aca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1984), pp. 72 - 133; and Winfred SchUler, Der Bayreuther Kt·eis von seiner E11tJteh1mg his zum Ausgang dcr Wilhclminischeu Em: Wag11erkult tmd KulttwrefOI"III im Gciste viilkischer Weltnuschaumw (MOnster: Aschcndorff, 1971 ). 52. Spencer and Millington, Selected Lcttm of Richm-d Wagn e1; p. 914. 53. T he documcnrs relevant to the relations of Wagner and Nietzsche have been conveniently assembled by Dieter Borchmeycr and Jorg Salaquarda, eds., Nietzsche tmd Wagrm·: Stntioncu einer epochalm Begegmmg, 2 vols. (Frankfurt am Main: lnsel Verlag, 1994 ). See further, Joachim Kohler, Nietzsche a11d Wagner: A Lesson i11 Subjugntiou, trans. Ronald Taylor (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1998); Martin Vogel, Nietzsche tmd Wagner: Ein deutscbes Lesebuch (Bonn: Verlag fiir systematische Musikwisscnschaft, 1984); and Roger Hollinmkc, Nietzsche, Wagner, aud the Philosophy of Pessimism (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1982). 54. The best treatment of Nietzsche's ideas on the topic of myth is Cristiano Grottanelli , "Nietzsche and Mytl1," History of Religions 37 (1997): 3- 20. See also Eugen Biser, "Nietzsche als Mytl1en7.-crst6rer und Mythenschopfcr," Nietzsche Stttdi"l 14 (1985): 96-109; Peter Plitz, "Der Mythos bei Nietzsche," in H. Koopman, cd., Mytbos tmd Mytbologie in de1· Litemtm· der 19. Jahrlumderts (Frankfurt: Klosterman, 1979), pp. 251- 56; and Jorg Salaquarda, "Mythos bci Nietzsche," in Hans Poser, ed., Philosophic 1md Mythos (Berlin : Walter de Gru)rter, 1972), pp. 174 - 91. The generalliteratmc on Nietzsche is enormous and growing exponentially. Any attempt to summarize it would be superficial and pretentious. 55. Other changes were also made to diminish the book's Wagnerian aura, including a change of title, which eliminated any mention of music, and deletion of the fr·ontispiece, which contained a coded allusion to Wagner as the new Prometl1eus. On that image and its connection to the preface and §§3, 4, 9, and 10 of the text, sec Reinhard Brandt, "Die Titelvignctte von Nictzschcs Geb1~rt der Trngiidie am dem Geiste dc1· Mwik," Nietzsche Studim 20 (199 J ): 314 - 28. 56. Niet7..sche characterized this opposition in many different ways, but one of the most revealing comes in The Birth of 'Tragedy, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage Books, 1967), §21. H ere, witl1 an argument so forced and mechanical as to render its motivating interests transparent, he aligned the Apollinian with the political genius of Rome and the Dionysiac with tl1e ecstatic abandon ofindia. The classical purity of Greece combines tl1cse two, bm the Greeks were unable to sustain the syntl1csis. [ n preceding and following sections (§§20, 23 - 24), he makes clear that tl1e Germans of his era arc best situated to recapture the ideal syntl1csis discovered and lost by the Greeks, while tl1e French- for example- arc too much the heirs of Rome to succeed in such an endeavor. 57. These categories arc treated in Birtll ofTmgedy §§10, 16, 17, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25. 58. This summary formulation brings togctl1er points made in Birtb ofTmgedy §§10, 16, 17, 18, 2 l, and23. 59. Bi1·tiJ ofTmgedy §21: "Only from the Greeks can we learn what such a wonderfully sudden awakening of tragedy meant for the innermost Lebensgrtmd of a Volk. It is tl1e Volk of the tragic mysteries tl1at fought the Persian Wars; and in turn the Volk that fought these wars

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Notes to Pages 63-64

Notes to Pages 64-66

required tragedy as a potion necessar)' for its recovery." [ Nur von den Gricchen gclcrnt Werden bnn , wic cin solchcs wundergleiches plotzlichcs Auf\vachcn dcr Tragodic fiir den innerstcn Lcbensgrund cines Yolkes zu bcdeutcn hat. Es ist das Yolk dcr tragischen Mysteric n, das die Perscrschlachten schHigt: und wicdcrum braucht das Yolk, das jcnc Kriege gefiihrt hat, die Tragodie als notwcndigen Gcnesungstr:mk.] 60. In §19 and elsewhere, "romanic" cultures arc those descended from Rome, where Romance languages arc spoken. They encompass Italy and, above all, France and arc contrasted to Germany, yielding some significant homologies:

priests rub together ( pm-mantb·) to produce the sacrificial fire. Questions of vowel lcngtl1 and root derivation make tl1e comparison untenable. 69. Philosophy iu tbc 7i·agic Age ofthe G1·eeks, trans. Marianne Cowan (Washington, DC: Rcgnery, 1962 ), p. 30: " People who prefer to spend their time on Egyptian or Persian philosophy ratller than on Greek, o n tl1e grounds that the former arc more 'origiml' and in any e\•cnt older, arc just as ill-advised as tl1osc who cannot deal with the magnificent, profound mythology of tl1c Greeks until they have reduced it to the physical trivialities of sun, lightning, storm and mist, which originally presumably gave rise to it. T hey arc the people, also, who imagine tl1ey have found a purer form of religion than that of Greek polytl1eism when tllcy discover the good old Aryans resu·icting their worship ro tl1c single vault of heaven. Everywhere, the way to tllc beginnings leads to barbarism." 70. According to Barbru-a von Reibnitz, Ein Knm.mmtat· zn Friedrich N ietzsche, »Die Gebtwt det· 11'fl.godie arts rlem Geiste der Musiki« (Kap. 1-12) (Weimar: J. B. Metzler, 1992), p. 238, Nietzsche's interest dated to his school days, when, at the age offourtcen, he wrote a one-act play, "Prometheus," focused on issues of sin and purification and tl1c different ap· proachcs to tl1e problem o f death in Greek religion and Christianity. Goctl1e's poem, casting Prometheus as the creative genius and rebel against God was surely infl uential on Nietzsche, as it was on all German intellccnrals of the period. fu1 excerpt from it is quoted at Birth of

Greece : Rome :: Germany : France Greece : Germany :: Rome : France 61. Birth ofTm.gedy §23 (pp. 138-39): "So vicl von dem reincnund kraftigcn Kcrnc des deutschcn Wescns, dass wir gcradc von ihm jenc Ausschcidung gcwaltsam cingcpflanztcr fi·cmdcr Elcmcntc zu crwartcn wagen und cs fii r moglich cmchtcn, dass der dcutschc Geist sich aufsich selbst zuriickbesinm. Yielleicht wird manchcr meinen , jcncr Geist mlisse scinen Kampf mit der Ausscheidung des Ro manischen beginncn: wozu cr cine ausscrliche Yorbcrcitung und Ermutigung in der sicgreichen Tapferkcit und blutigen Gloric des letztcn Kricges crkenncn dlirfte, die innerliche Notigu11g abcr in dc m Wcttcifer suchcn muss, der erhabcncn Yorkampfcr au f dicser Balm, Luthcrs ebensowohl a is unserer grossen Kli nstler und Dichter, stcts wert zu scin. Abcr nie moge er glaubcn, ahnliche K.'impfe ohne seine Hausgotter, ohne seine mythischc H cimat, ohnc cin »Wiedcrbringen« aller deutschcn Dinge, kampfen zu konnen! " Nietzsche commented retrospectively on this context in his "Attempt at a SelfCriticism" §1, but did so in elusive fashio n, given his changed attitudes toward German nationalism and tl1c Wilhelmine Reich. 62. Ibid ., §17 (p. 106): "In this commst, I understand by tl1c spirit of science tl1e faith that first came to light in the person of Socrates-tl1c faith in the cxplicability of nature and in knowledge as a panacea. H e who recalls tl1e immediate consequences oftl1 is restlessly progressing spirit of science will realize at once tl1at myth was annihilated by it, and that, because of this annihilation, poetry was driven like a homeless being fi·om her natural ideal soil. I f we have been right in assigning to music the power o f again giving birth to myth , we may similarly expect to find the spirit of science on the patl1 where it inimically opposes this mythopocic power of music." [Bei dicscr Gegcnii bcrstellung verstche ich untcr dem Geiste der Wis· senschaft jenen zuerst in dcr Person des Socrates ans Licht gckommcncn Glau ben an die Ergrlindlichkcit dcr NatUJ' und an die Univcrsalhcilkraft des Wisscns. Wer sich an die nachstcn Fo lgen dicses ratios vonvartsdringcnden Gcistcs dcr Wisscnschaft erinncrt, wird sich sofort vergcgcnwartigcn, wic durch ihn der Mythus vcrnichtct wurdc und wic durch diesc Ycrnichtung die Poesie aus ihrcm natlirlichcn idealen Boden, a is cine nunmchr heimatlosc, vcrdrangt war. Haben wir mit Recht der Musik die Kraft zugcsprochen, den Mytlnrs wicder aus sich gebaren zu konncn, so werden wir den Geist der Wisscnschaft auch auf dcr Balm zu suchen habcn, wo er dieser mythc nschaffende n Kraft der Musik feindlich entgegcntritt.) 63. Ernst Behler, "Sokratcs und die gricchischc Tmgodie: Nietzsche und die Bruder Schlegel iibcr den Ursprung der Modcrne," N ietzsche Stttdien 18 (1989): 141- 57. 64. The Basel lecture is discussed in Kohler, Nietzsche a11d Wag11e1; pp. 88-89. 65. Sec Wagner's letter to Nietzsche (4 Feb. 1870), Spencer and Millington, Selected Letters ofRicbm·d Wag11er, pp. 770-71. 66. On Kuhn, sec Bologna, Rice1·ca etimologica e t·icostruziom cultumle, pp. 15-29 . 67. Adalbert Kuhn, Mythologische Studim: 1. Die H embktmft rles Fcuers rmd des Go·tte1·trallks (Gliterslo h: C. Bcrtclsmann, 1859; 2d, rev. cd ., 1886). 68. Kuhn compared Greek Prometl1eus to the Sanskrit substantive pramantha-, a term used only in one speciali zed, ritual text (the Katyiiyana Sranta Siitm ) to de note the sticks

who specu lates that Nietzsche was led to these writings and those ofGobincau by Hans von Wo lzogen (1848 - 1938) and Ludwig Schemann (1 852 - 1938 ), leading members of the Bayrcutll ci rcle. 72. Birth of7i·agedy §9 (p . 70, translation slightly modified): "Die Promcrhcussage ist ein ursprlingliches Eigentum der gcsamtcn arischcn Yolkergemeindc und cin Dokumcnt fiir dcren Bcgabung zum Tiefsinnig-Tragischen, ja es mochte nicht o hnc Wahrscheinlichkcit scin, dass diescm Myth us fur das arische Wesen eben diesel be charaktcristische Bedeutung inncwohnt, die dcr Slindenfallmythus fiir das scmitische hat, und dass zwischen beiden Mythen ein Ycnvandtschaftsgrad existicrt, wie zwischen Bruder und Schwcstcr." 73. Ibid., p. 7 1: "Das Beste und Hochste, desscn die Menschhcit tcilhaftig werden kann, crringt sic durch cinen Frcvcl und muss nun wicder seine Folgen dahinnchmen, namlich die ganzc Flut von Leidcn und von Klimmcrnissen, mit dcnen die bclcidigten 1-limmlischen das edel emporstrebcndc Menschcngeschlecht hcimsuchcn-mlisscn: ein hcrber Gedanke, der durch die Wiirrlc, die er dem Frevcl erteilt, seltsam gcgcn den semitischcn Slindenfallmytlms absticht, in wclchcm die Neugierde, die llignerischc Yorspicgelu ng, die Ycrflihrbarkeit, die Liistcrnhcit, kurz cine Rei he vornehmlich weiblicher Aftcktionen als der Ursprung des Obcls angcschcn wurde." 74. Friedrich Nietzsche, Nachgeln.sscuc Fmgmmte, 1887-1889, ed. Giorgio Colli and Mazzino Montinari, vol. 13 of Kritische Studimausgabe (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1988), pp. 38081 and 386. The changes arc not entirely wholesome. Thus, Nietzsche u·eats tl1c possibility

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Tmgedy§9. 7 1. Nictzscbes Bibliothek: Vicrzclmte ]aln·esgabe rlc1· Gesellschaft rle1• F1'e1mde des NietzscheArchivs (Weimar: R. Wagner Sohn, 1942), p. 46. In addition to Kuhn and Wclckcr, he also checked out Theodor Ben fey, Geschichte der Spmc1Jwisse11scha[t rmd oric11talischen Philologie in Dmtschlm1d scit rlcm Atlfat~ge rles 19. ]ahrlnmrlet·ts mit ei11e111 Riickblick auf die ft·iihercn Zeitc11 (Munich: J. G. Cotta, 1869); August SchleichCJ·, Compendium der J>ewleichmdc Gmmmatik rler iudoget·mm1ischen Sprachen (Weimar: Bohlau, 1861; 2d ed., 1866 ); Ludwig Prcller, Griecbiscbc Mytbologie (Berlin: Weidmann, 1860-61 ); Christian August Lobcck, Aglaophamus ( Regimonti: Borntracgcr, 1829); Konrad Maurer, lslittlrlische vvlkssagcrr rle1· Gegemvm·t (Leipzig: J. C. Hiurichs, 1860); Wilhelm Mannhardt, Germm1ische Mytbm: Forsclnmgen (Berlin: F. Schneider, 1858); and Friedrich Max Mliller, Wissemchaft det· Sprache (Leipzig: W. Engelman n, 1861- 63). Sec fi.rrthcr the discussion of von Rcibnitz, Kommmtar, pp. 246 - 48,

Notes to Pages 66-67

Notes to Pages 68 - 69

of an Aryan religion being a religion of the oppressed as a contradiction in terms, for Aryans arc a master race: "Es ist vollkommen in Ordnung, daB wir kcinc Religion unterdruckter arischcr Rasse n haben: denn das ist ein Widcrspruch: cine H errenrassc ist obenauf ode r geht zu Grunde" (p. 38 1). 75. On Max Muller, sec Traut mann , Aryam and Bt·itish India, pp. 172-8 1 and 19498; Olender, Ltmguagcs of Paradise, pp. 82-92; Lourcns van den Bosch, "Friedr ich Max Muller and his Contribution to the Science of Religion," in Erik Rccnberg Sand and )0rge 11 Podemann S0rensen, eds., Compamtive Studies in the History ofReligiom (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 1999 ), 11-39; Joan Leopold, "Friedrich Max Muller and the Question of Early Indo-Europeans (1847-1851)," Etudes itttu·-ethniques 7 ( 1984 ): 21-32, "Ethnic Stereotypes in Linguistics: The Case of Friedrich Max MUller," in Hans Aarslcfr, Louis Kelly, and H ans-Josef N icderehe, cds., Papers ht the Histot-y of Littguistics (Amsterdam : John Benjamins, 1987), pp. 501- I 2; and Gary T rom pf, Friedrich Max Miiller as a TIJem·ist ofCompamtive Religion (Bombay: Shaku ntala, 1978). I ndian attitud es remain quite conflicted. Cf. N irad C hauduri, Scholar Extmot·dinary: The Life of P1·ojesso1' the Rt. Hort, Friedt·ich Max Miiller, P.C. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1974) wit h Brahm Bharti , Ma....: Miiller: A Lijel01tg Masquerade (New Delhi: Erabooks, 1992). Max Muller's most important papers arc included in the series Chips from a German Workshop, 5 vols. (New York: Charles Scribners, 1869-76), and include "Comparative Mythology" ( 1856), "Christ and Other Masters" ( 1858), "Semitic Monotheism" (1860), "Lecture on the Vedas" ( 1865), "On t he Stratification of Languages" (1868), and "On the Philosophy of Mytho logy" ( 1871 ). Sec also h is Lectut·es on tbe Scie11ce ofLanguage (London: Long mans, G reen , 1864 ), Introduction to the Science of R eligion (Londo n: Longmans, Green , 1873), Lectures on tbe Origin and G1·owth of Religio11 (London: Longmans, Green , 1878), Nntttml Rcligio11 (London: Longman s, Green, 1889), and Contributio11.s to the Science of Mythology (London: Longmans, Green , 1897). 76. He later described the inspirational effect Schelling's lecture had o n him : " It was Schelling ... who first asked t he question, W hat makes an etfmos? What is the true origin of a peop le? H ow did human beings become people? And tl1c answer which he gave, tl1ough it sou nd ed startling to me when, in 1845, l listened, at Berlin , to t he lectures of t he old philosopher, has been confirmed more and mo re by subsequent researches in to t he history of language and religion ." Introduction to a Scimce ofR eligiOII (1882), p . 84, cited by Trompf, Ft·iedrich Max Miiller, p . 15. O n Schelling's const ruction of mytl1, sec Edward Allen Beach , 111e Potmcies ofGoti (s): Schelling's Philosophy of Mythology (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994). 77. Upon Bunsen's death , Max MuUe r wrote a moving tribute to him tlut appears in Chips from a Germa11 Workshop, 3:243- 389. Bunsen's letters to him were publ ished in tl1e same volume, pp. 391-492. On their relation, sec further Trompf, Friedrich Max Miille1; pp. 36-46. 78. Bun sen's views arc spelled out in his volu me entitled God i11 Histot·y, 3 vols. (Lon don : Longmans, Green , 1868-70), where he argued tl1at C hristianity was closely associated witl1 t he Aryan religions of Asia. Accordingly, "Our greatest b usiness was to get rid of all that was purely Semitic in C h ristianity and to make it Indo-Germanic." This being accomplished, Teutonic Christianity was fi·cc to culminate in t he Protestantism of Germany and England. 79. T. M ommsen, D. F. Strauss, F. Max Miillcr, and T . Carlyle, Lettc1·s 011 the War between Germatly a11d Fm11cc (London: T rub ncr, 1871), pp. 58-114. 80. T he champions of comparative mythology (Max Muller, Adalbert Kuhn, Michel Brcal, George Cox, Leopold von Schroeder, Angelo de G ubcrnaitis, ct al. ) arc often ridiculed for agreeing tlut myths describe n atural phenomena whi le figh ting incessantly about wh ich pheno mena arc described in an y g iven myt h (Max Miiller regularly championed tl1e sun-

rise, Kuhn tl1c rain). In part, they arrived at these opinions honestly, tor they grounded tl1eir view of myt h in the oldest Sansksit texts-the hymns of the Rg ~dn-and consulted indigenous commen taries to learn what they meant. In tl1csc commenrarics, particu larly t hat of Sayana (written in the fourtccntl1 (?) century C. B. bur judged aut ho ritative and included in Max Mi.i llcr's critical edition of t he ~da), they lound myths repeatedly t reated as allegories of sunrise and tl1e coming of the monsoon. This they took to confirm Herder's view tl1at myths preserve memory of a Volk's o riginal climate and environment, whence tl1eir tllcorctical obsession. 81. The system that distinguishes three races-Aryan, Semitic, and Turanian-is a hybrid of Genesis 10, which traces the world's peoples to Noah's t h ree sons (Shcm, Ham, and Japhct) and the narrative in Ferdowsi's Shahnameh, where the sons of Feridun play t he same role (Salm, T ur, and Eraj). Ar)rans tlms come fi·om Eraj, Tu ranians from Tur, and Semites from Shem, whom some authors sought to id entify witl1 Salm . Jo nes o rganized his an niversary discourses to establish the validity of this system, as 1 will show in chapter 4, but his fi rst presentation of it came in "A Short H istory of Persia fi·om tl1c Earliest Times to tl1c Present Century" (1773), in 11Je Works ofSir William ]oucs, 12:403-4. Jones's manipulations toward tl1is end were subtle and involved shifting the center ofSalm's realm from B)' Zantium, where Ferdowsi placed it, to Syria ( Persian Siim, which could be associated not o nly with Satm but also H ebrew Scm). More audacious still was his suggestion that "Salm was, perhaps, the Salmal/assel' of t he ]e111s." T he myth of Feridun's sons may be found in Reuben Levy, TIJe Epic of the Ki11gs: SMh-udma, the National Epic of Persia by Ferdowsi (Chicago: University of Chicago P ress, 1968), pp . 26 - 27. 82. On the relations of Rcnan an d Max MU ller, sec Ole nder, La11guages ofPamdise, pp. 51-81. T he two studied togctl1cr in Paris under Eugene Burnouf, as did the latter's nephew Emile (1821- 19 07). For Rcnan and Burnoufth c younger, t he Semitic was defined by Jews and Judaism and drew tl1eir strong antipathy; for Max MUller, it encompassed the Cllristian and the Jewish, with tl1c former in the ascendant. Accordingly, it enjoyed his genial approbation. 83. Sec Sir Monier Monier-Williams (who won the chair), "Preface to the New Edition," Sat1skrit·Er1glish Dictio,lary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1899), pp. ix-xi. Note also his d iscussion o f the contrast between Aryan and Semitic languages, pp. xii-xiv. Correspondence relating to competition for tl1e Boden chair is held at t he Bo d leian Library in Oxford, MS. Eng. c. 2807. 84. Legend has it that U lrich von Wilamowitz-Moellcndorf, dean of German classicists, inquired of his English colleagues a propos of Max M iiller: "Have you no humbugs of your own, tlut you have to import them from us?" 85. Rousseau also wrote on the same ropic, and t heir contributions arc readily available togctl1cr: john Moran and Alexander Gode, cds., Herder and R ousseau 011 the Origi11 of Language (Chicago: U niversity of Chicago Press, 1986). On other co ntributions to the Berlin competition, sec Paul Salmon, "Also R:m: Some Rivals of Herder in the Berlin Academy's 1770 Essay Competition o n the O rigin of Language," H istoriogmpbia Li1tguistica 16 ( 19 89):

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25- 48. 86. Bulletiu de Ia Societe de tittgteistiqtte de Paris 1 ( 1871 ): iii; cited by Olender, Latlgttages of Paradise, p. 177 n. 22. 87. Ferdinand de Saussure, Course i1t Gmeml Li1tguistics, trans. Wade Baskin (LaSalle, !L: Open Court Publishing, 1983), based o n lectures given in 1907- 11 and published posthumously by h is students. Sec esp . tl1e cau tionary chapter "Linguistic Evidence in Antlll'opology and Prehistory" (pp. 221- 26), which begins as follows: "Linguists can, tl1en, by tl1c method of reconstruction go back in time and recover t he languages spoken by certain com mun ities long before tl1crc is any historical record of t hem. Can t hese reconstructio ns tell us

Notes to Pn.gcs 69-71

Notes to Pages 72 - 73

an)rthing about the peoples themselves, their race, their social structure, their customs, their institutions, etc.? l n other words, can the language throw lig ht on questio ns of anthropology, ethnograph)' and prehistory? It is generally held that it can. But in our view that is largely illusory." At p. 223, Saussurc dismisses rather curtly the attempts of Kuhn and others toreconstruct myths and religio us constructs. H ere, his attitude may have been shaped in some measure by his own experience, for in 1894 he began a notebook in which he attempted studies of indo-European myth along the lines of Kuhn and Max Miillcr. H e apparently abandoned this work, however, and tl1e many deletions, erasures, omissions, and hesitations in his text show how fru strating an endeavor he fou nd it. The manuscript has recently been published and is available in Claude Levi-Strauss, The View from Afar, trans. ]. Ncugroeschel and P. H oss (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), pp. 148-50. 88. Sec the discussions in Mossc, Towa1·d the Fi11al Solutiou; Poliakov, Arya11 Myth, pp. 255-72; Sergent, Les Judo·etwopeem (Paris: Payof~ 1995 ), pp. 37-41; Robert Proctor, " From 'Antl1ropologie' to 'Rassenidcologie,'" in George Stocking, ed., Boues, Bodies, Behm,ior: Essnys tm Biological A11thropology (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1988 ), pp. 138-79. Although long since discredited, this was tl1e dominant trend in antl1ropology everywhere save England during the latter hal f of the nineteentl1 century. Among tl1osc involved were Paul Broca (1824-80), GustafRetzius (1842- 1919), Karl Pcnka ( 1847-1912), Georges Vacher de Lapougc ( J 854 - 1936), Gustav Kossinna (1858-1931), and Eugcn Fisher (1874-1967). 89. For the best treatment ofrhesc fi gures and dcvelopmcms, sec George W. Stocking, After Tylor: B1·itish Social A11thopology, 1888-1951 (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1995 ), Victm·ian Anthropology (New York: Free Press, 1987); and Richard Dorson, The British Folklorists; A Hirtory (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968). Selections arc available in Richard Dorson, cd ., Peasn11t Customs and Savage MytiJs: Selectiom from the British Folklorists (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968). 90. jo hannes Fabian, Time and the Otber: How A11thropology Makes its Object ( New Yo rk: Columbia University Press, 1983); see also Adam Kuper, TIJC b~J'C11tion of P1·imiti1•e Society: Ii·a1Jsjommtio11s ofa~l Illusi01t (London: New York: Routledge, 1988 ). 9 1. The best summary of tl10se debates remains Richard D01·son, " The Decline of Solar Mythology," jotw11al of Amerim11 Folklm·e 68 (1955): 393- 416. 92. Sir James George Frazer, The Goldeu Bough, 2 vols. (London: Macmillan, 1890), 2d cd., 3 vols. ( London: Macmillan, 1900), 3d ed., 12 vols. (London: Macmillan, 191115). On Frazer's ideas and influence, sec Robert A. Segal, cd. , JUtuat a11d Myth: Robertson Smith, Ftnzcr, Hooke, and Harris011 (New York: Garland , 1996); Marc Manganaro, Myth, Rhetoric, a11d the Voice ofAu thoJ·ity: A C1·itiqt1e ofFrnzer, Eliot, Frye, and Campbell (New Haven, CT : Yale University Press, 1992); Robert Fraser, TIJe Making ofthe Golden Bough (New York: St. Marrin's, 1990); Robert Ackerman, The Myth aud R itual School:]. G. Fmzer a11d the Cambridge Ritualists (New York: Garland , I 991 ),J G. Ft·azer: His Life a11d Work (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), "Frazer on Mytl1 and Ritual," joun1al ofthe History ofIdeas 36 ( 1975): 115- 34; Robert Alun Jones, "Robertson Smith and James Frazer on Religion: Two Traditions in British Social Anthropology," in George Stocking, cd., Functimzatism Histm·icized: Essnys 011 B1·itish Social A ntiJropology ( Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1984 ), pp. 31- 58; Ludwig Wittgcnstein , Remarks 011 Fmze1·'s "Goldm Bough" (Atlantic Highlands, NJ : Humanities Press, 1979); Jonathan Z. Smith, "When tl1e Bo ugh Breaks,'' H isto1•y of R etigiom 12 (1973): 342-71; jo hn Vickery, The Litemry impact of the "Golden Botwh" (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1973 ); and Robert Downie, Fmzer m1d the "Golden Bougb" (London: Gollancz, 1970). 93. Malinowski's writings on mytl1 have been conveniently collected by Ivan Strcnski , Malinowski m 1d the Work ofMyth (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1992). Beyond

Strcnski's useful introduction, see his Fou.r 'DJeories of Myth, pp. 42-69; George Stocking, "The Ethnographer's Magic: Fieldwork in British Antluopology from Tylor to Malinowski," in Obscn,u ·s Obsen1ed: Esmys 011 Etlmogmpbic Fieldwork (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1983), pp. 70-120; Raymond Firtl1, "Bronislaw Malinowski," in Sydcl Silverman, ed., Totems m1d Tea che1·s: Perspectives on tbe History ofAmhropology (New York: Columbia Univcrsit)' Press, 1981), pp. 103- 37; and S. F. Nadel, " Malinowski on Magic and Religion," in Raymond Firth, cd., MMI m1d C ulture: An E1'ahm tion of the Work of Bro11islmv Mali110 Jvski (London: Routledge and Kcgan Paul, 1957), pp. 189- 208. 94. Ernest Gellner," 'Zcno of Cracow' or 'Revolution at Ncmi' or 'The Polish Revenge: A Drama in Three Acts,'" i11 Roy Ellen, Ernest Gellner, Grazyna Kubica, and Janusz Mucha, eds., MalilloJJJski betwem Iivo Worlds: The Polish H oots of an Amhropologicalii·aditio11 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), p. 182. 95. I n Strcnski, Malinowski and the Work of Myth, pp. 77- 116. 96. Publication of Malinowski's Dia1·y in the Strict Smse of the Tenn (New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, 1967) punctured the origin myth of modern ctlmography, setting off a crisis of conscience tl1at has not yer been resolved. For discussion of tl1c issues it raises, sec, inter alia, james Clifiord, TIJe PredicamentofCulttlre (Cambridge, MA: H arvard University Press, 1988), pp. 21- 54 and 92-113; Clifiord Gcertz, Works and Lives: TheA 11thropologist as Author (Stanford, CA: Stanford U niversity Press, 1988), pp. 73 - 101 ; Murray Wax, "Tenting with Malinowski," A merica11 Sociological Review 37 ( 1972 ): 1- 13; and George Stocking, "Empatl1y and Antipathy in the H eart of Darkness: An Essay Review of Malinowski's Field Diaries," Journal foJ• the History of the Behavioml Scimces 4 ( 1968 ): 189- 94. 97. The text is available in Robert Thornton and Peter Skalnik, eds., TIJe Early WritillgsofBrollislaw Mali11orvski (Cambridge: Cambridge U niversity Press, 1993), and its importance is discussed under tl1e heading "The Nietzsche Essay: A Charter for a Theory ofMytl1," pp. 16 - 26. Previously unpublished essays on Frazer arc also included in this volume at pp. 117- 99, with further discussion at pp. 3-8 and 38- 49. 98. On the Polish period of Malinowski's life and its influence o n his later thought, sec Thornton and Skalnik, Eady W1·iti11gs; Ellen et al., Malinowski betrvem Iivo Worlds, csp. the articles by jan Jerschina (pp. 128 - 48) and Ernest Gellner (164 - 94); and Ivan Strcnski, "Malinowski: Second Positivism, Second Romanticism," Ma11 17 (1982): 766-71. 99. Durkhcim treated Max Miillcr in chap. 3 of The Elementary rlmm of the Religious Life, trans. Karen Fields (New York: Free Press, 1995), pp. 70 -76. Also of interest arc Marcel Mauss's 1899 reviews of books by Max Mtillcr and Lang, in Omvt·es, Vol. 2: Represm t atiom collectives et dive1·s itc des civilimtiom ( Paris: Editions de Minuit, 1974), pp. 273 - 78. 100. These works include Le Fcstin d'immortalite: Etude de mythologie compm·ce indoem·opcemle (Paris: Muscc Guimet, 1924), Le C1•imc des Lmmiemzes: Rites et /egmdes du mondc egcen ( Paris: Paul Gcuthncr, 1924), Le Pt·obteme d es Cen tau res: Etude de mythologie compm·ce indo-em·opemm (Paris: Musee Guimct, 1929), Oumnos· Var1ma: Et11de de mythologie comparee indo-curopee~me (Paris: Adrian Maison neuve, 1934), and Flamm-Bmhman (Paris: Muscc Guimct, 1935 ). For their place in Dumczil's oeuvre, sec C. Scott Littleton, The

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New CompamtiJJC Mythology: Att Anthropological Assessment of tbe Theo1·ies of Georges Dumezil, 3d cd. (Berkeley: University of California Press, [1966] 1982), pp. 32-57. Mauss's review of L e Festin d'immortalite (Omvres, 2: 315-16) is among the most favorable that tl1c

book received but signals the rcse1vations which led otl1ers to be much more hostile. 101. l n the space available, it is impossible to speak about every one oftl1esc figures in detail, but for each there is a fuscinating life history in which scholarly and political-cultural concerns and careers arc closely interwoven. Three examples arc discussed in chap. 6, and critical studies available on otl1crs have appeared recently, e.g., Richard Noll, TIJe ]1mg Cult (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1994), and TheA1-ya11 Christ (New York: Random

Notes to Pages 73 -75

Notes to Pages 76 - 80

H ouse, 1997); Daniel Dubuisson, Mythologies dtt XXiemc sieclc (Lille: Presses univcrsitaircs de Lille, 1993); Steven Wasserstrom, Religion after lteligion (Princeton, N): Princeton University Press, 1999); and Shaul Baumann, The Germatl Faith Movemmtand Its Fomuie1·, ]akob Wilhelm Hauer (1881- 1962) (Ph.D . diss., H ebrew University of Jerusalem, 1998; in Hebrew, with English summary). Let me simply note that more than discourse passed fi·om academic to government and military circles. Alfred Rosenberg recruited students of myth for the Nazi ideological service (his " Rosenberg Amt"), and Heinrich Himmler did so for the SS equivalent, the Ah11merbe ("Ancestral heritage") division. Several of those named above (Wiist, Altheim , Hauer, Hofler, Wolfram) served, and the incomparably brilliant Hermann Giintert ended his career sadly as the rector who helped NazifY Heidelberg University. Strangest of all, perhaps, is the case of (Baron) julius Evola, a student of myth and esotcrica who was a leading ideologist of Fascist I ta.ly. During the war, the Nazis supplied him with all manner of occult materials, with which he waged ritual warfare against the Reich's Masonic enemies. On Evola, sec Steven Wasscrstrom, "The Lives of Baron Evola," Alphabet City 4 - 5 (1995): 84 - 90; Franco Fcrraresi, "Julius Evola: Tradition , Reaction and the Radical Right," Archivesettropemnes de sociologic 28 ( 1987): 107-5 1; Thomas Sheehan, "Divt11ta1·e dio: Julius Evola and the Metaphysics of Fascism," Stallford Italian R eview 6 (1986): 279- 92, and " Myth and Violence: The Fascism of Julius Evola and Alain de Benoist," Social R esea1·ch 48 (1981 ): 45-73 ; and Phillippe Baillet, " Les Rapports de Julius Evola avec lc fascismc ct lc national-socialismc," Politica H ermetica 1 ( 1987): 49 - 71. 102. On some of these popular venues, sec Annette Hcin, "Es ist viet Hitler i11 Wagmr": Rassimms tmd amisemitische Deutschtmmideologie in den Bayrettthcr Bliittcn1 (Tlibingcn: Max Niemeyer, 1996); Rainer Flasche, "Yom dcutschcn Kaiserrcich zum D ritren Reich: Narionalreligibse Bcwcgungcn in dcr erstcn Halftc des 20. Jahrhundcrts in Deutschland," Zeitschrift fiir R eligionswismzsciJaft l (1993): 28- 49; Nicholas Goodrick-Ciarkc, T11e Occult Roots of Nazism: The Ariosophists ofAmtria and GemtMly, 1890-1935 (New York: New York University Press, 1985); and the quirky, but fascinating, Joscelyn God\\~ n , A rktos: T11e Polar Myth in Scimce, Symbolism, Mld Nazi Survival (Kempton, IL: Adventures Unlimited Press, 1996). 103. On the Nazi usc of myth , ritual, and symbolic spectacle, sec Yvonne Karow, "Zur Konstruktion und Funktion nationalsozialistischer Mythcnbi ldung," Zeitschrift fii1· Religiorzswimmchaft 2 (1994 ): 145- 60; Philippe Lacouc-Labarthc and Jcan-Luc Nancy, "The Nazi Myth," Critical b~qttiry 16 (1990): 291- 312; George Mossc, The Natio11alization of the Masses: Political Symbolism a11d Mass Movemmts itl Germany from the Napoleonic Wars through the Third R eich (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1975 ), and cd., Nazi Cult m ·e: Intellectual, Cttltttral, and Social Life in tJJe Third R eich (New York: Grosset and Dunlap, 1966); Jacques Ride, "La Fortune singulierc du mythc gcrmanique en Allemagne," Etudes Gennaniques 21 (1966): 489 - 505. 104. On Glinthcr, sec Edouard Conte and Cornelia Essner, La Q}lete de la race: UtiC anthropologie dttuazisme (Paris: H achctte, 1995), pp . 65- 67,74 - 101, and passim. Among his writings, note R assmktmde des detttschm Volkes (Munich: ]. F. Lehmann, 1922), republished sixteen times by 1933 and many more in unnumbered editions thereafter, Adel tmd Rasse (Munich: ]. F. Lehmann, 1926), Rassmgeschichte des hc/lenischen 1md des romischC11 Volkes, mit eitzem Attbatlg: Hellen ische tmd romische Kopfe nordischer Rasse (Munich: J. F. Lehmann, 1929), Rassenkzmde Ettropas (Munich: J. F. Lehmann , 1929), Rasswku11de des j iidischen Volkes (Munich : J. F. Lehmann, 1930), Frommigkeit nordischer Artmlj] (lena: Eugcn Dicdrichs, 1934; 5th ed., Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1943 ), Herkmift 1md Rasmweschichte de1· Germanen (Munich: J. F. Lehmann, 1935). 105. Alfred Rosenberg, Mythm des 20. ]ahrhtmderts: Eitle Wcrttmg dcr seelischgcistigcn

Gestaltcnkiimpfe muet·cr zeit ( Mwlich: Hohcneichen Verlag, 1930), which was republished 247 times by 1944, making it the most-read work of Nazi ideology after Mei11 Kampf Rob..:rt Ceci l's study, 71Je Myth of the Master Race: Alfred Rosen bet"!} at1d Nazi Ideology (London: B. T. Batsford, 1972), remains useful.

l. Snorri Swrluson, Prose Edda, prologue, chaps. 2-3. 2. T he learned background evidcnr in the prologue to Snorri's Edda has been treated, inter alia, b)' Anthony Faulkcs, " The Sources of Skaldskaparmal: Snorri's Intellectual Background," in Alois Wolf, ed ., Snorri Stm·lmon: Kolloqttittm flltliisstich d er 750. Wiederkehr seines Todestages (Tlibingcn: Gunter Narr, 1993), pp. 59-76 , and "Pagan Sympathy: Attitudes to Heathendom in the Prologue to StlOtTa Edda," in R. J. Glendinning and H . Bessason, eds., Edda: A Cotlectiml of Essays (Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1983), pp. 283-314; Kurt Schier, "Zur Mythologie der Stwrra Edda: Einige Quellcnproblemc," in Ursula Dronkc ct al. , eds., Speculum Nm·roenttm: Norse Studies in M emory of Gabriel Tttrville·Petre (Odense: Odcnse University Press, 1981 ), pp. 405- 20. 3. Snorri, Pt·ose Edda, prologue to chap. 5: Asia manna, er xsir voro kallaOir." 4. Ibid., chap. 3: "Einn konungr, cr par var, cr ncfndr Mun6n eOa Mcnnon; hann atti d6ttur hofi.tiz sva, at pcira tunga, Asiamanna, var cigin tunga um all pesi li nd, ok pat pik.kiaz mcnn skynja mega af pvi, at ritu
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Chapter 4

Notes to Pages 80 - 82

Notes to Pages 82-85

first verse Aatly contradicts the testimony of 10.5 , 20, and 31: "Now the whole earth had one language and few words" (cf. I 1.6: "An d the Lord said, 'Beho ld, they arc one people, and rl1ey have all one language ... "). Resolution comes when God confuses languages and scatters peoples (10.7- 9 ). The chapter goes on to trace the line ofSh cm down through Abraham, bur Ham, Japhet, and their lines fi gure not at all. Rather, at this precise point they are erased from the narrative. 13. For a discussion of Goropius's treatment of Gomer, see Metcalf, "The IndoEuropean Hyporl1csis," pp. 241 - 42. 14. Cited in Bonfante, " Ideas on the Kinship of the European L'lnguagcs," p . 691. 15. Sec the splendid discussions of Frans:ois H artog, The Mirror of Herodotus (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988); and Maria Michaela Sassi, La scienza dell'uomo uel/a Grecia a11tica (Turin: Boringhieri, 1988), pp. 96 - 127. Also relevant are James Romm, "Herodotus and Myrl1ic Geography: The Case of the Hyperborcans," Tra11Sactious ofthe Americatl Philological Association 119 (1989): 97- 113; Gian Franco Gianotti, "Ordine e simmetria nella rappresentazionc del mondo: Erodoto e il paradosso del Nilo," QJiaderni di Storia 27 (1988): 51- 92; Claude Calame, "Environncment et nature humaine: Lc R.'lcismc bien ternperc d'Hippocrate," in Scimces et mcismc (Lausanne: Payor, 1986), pp . 75- 99; David L'lteiner, "Polarita: II principia della differenza complemcntarc," QJiademi di storia 11 ( 1985 ): 79-103; and W. Backhaus, "Ocr Hellencn-Barbaren-Gegensatz und die hippokratische Schrift Pet·i aerim hydatim topo11," Histm·ia 25 ( 1976 ): 170 - 85. 16. Y11glitzgasaga 8: "pessa Svlpj60 kollullu peir Mannhcima, en im1 mikl u Svidpj60 kollullu peir Gollheima." 17. On rl1e "Scythian thesis," see Muller, "Early Stages of L'lnguage Comparison," pp . 9 - 12; Metcalf, "The Indo-European Hypothesis," pp. 234 - 40 ; on Lcibniz's involvement, J. T. Waterman , "The Languages of the World: A Classification by G. W. Lcibniz," in E. Hofacker and L. Dielkman, eds., Studies in Gennanic Lauguagcs aud Literatures in Memory of Fred Nolte (St. Louis: Washington Unjvcrsity Press, 1963), pp. 27- 34. 18. Garlan d Can non, ed., The L etters of Si1· William Joues, 2 vols. (Oxford : Clarendon Press, 1970), 1 :285-86 (19 Feb. 1779, to Prince Adam Czartoryski): "How so many European words crept into rl1e Persian language I know not wirl1 certainty. Procopius, I think, mentions rl1e great intercourse both in war and peace between the Persians and the nations in rl1e norrl1 of Europe and Asia whom the ancients knew by the general name of Seythians. Many learned investigators of antiquity arc fully persuaded rl1at a very old and almost primacval language was in usc among rl1ese northern nations from whjch not only the Celtic dialects but even the Greek and LatiJl arc derived; in f.'lct we fi nd pater and mater in Persian, nor is dugater so far ti·om daughter, or even onoma and nome11 fromuiim, as to make it ridiculous to suppose, rlnt they sprang from the same root. We must confess that rl1csc researches are very obscure and uncertain; and you will allow, not so agreeable as an ode of Hafcz, or an elegy of Amr'alkeis." 19. On Jones's importance, see R . H . Robins, "Jones as a General Lin!,'l.ljst in the Eighteenrl1-Century Conext," in Garland Cannon and Kevin Brine, cds., Objects of Enquiry: The Life, Contt·ibutions, atld Tttjlumces ofSir William Jones, 1746 - 1794 (New York: New York University Press, 1995), pp. 83 - 91; Garland Cannon, "Sir William Jones, Language Families, and Indo-European," Wot·d 43 (1992): 49 -59, "Jones's 'Sprung from Some Common Source': 1786 - 1986," in Sydney M. Lamb and E. Douglas Mitchell, eds., Spnmgfrom Some Commorz So11rce: h 1vestigatiom into the Prehistory ofLatwuages (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1991), pp. 23 - 47. On the antecedents to Jones, sec the literature cited above inn. 10. 20. Thus Jack Fellman, "On Sir William Jones and the Scythian Language," Lauguage Scimces 34 (1975): 37-38. 21. Cannon, Letters of Si1' William Jones, 1 :285.

22. Sir William Jones, "An Essay on the Poetry ofrl1c Eastern Nations," Works ofSir William joues (London: J. Stockdale and J. Walker, J 807), 10 :329- 38. T he poetry tor which he voiced such high regard was chiefly Persian , but also Arabic. 23. Sir William Jones, "A Discomse on the Institution of a Society for Inquiring into the History, Civil and Natural, the Antiquities, Arts, Sciences, and Literature, of Asia," Wo1·ks of Sir William Jones, 3: 1- 2. 24. On Jones, the standard biography is Garland Cannon, 17Jc Life aud Mind ofOriental ]o11es (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). Also uscli.ll arc R. H . Robins, "The Life and Work of Sir William Jones," Tramactious of the Philological Society ( 1987): 1-23; S. N. Mukh erjee, Sit· William jones: A Study in Eightemth Cct~ttwy Bl'itish Attitudes to Itzdia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968); Janardan Prasad Singh, Si1· William Jones: His Miud a11d Art (New Delhi: S. Chand, 1982); Cannon and Brine, Objects of E11quiry; and Bernard Cohn, Colonialism a11d Its Forms of Kno111ledge: The Bl'itish in India (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996), pp. 16 -75. 25. For more on this group, sec Rosane Rocher, "British Oricntalism in the Eighteenth Century: The Dialectics of Knowledge and Government," in Carol Breckenridge and Peter van dcr Veer, cds., Orie11talism and the Postcolonial Predimmmt (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1993), pp. 2 15-49; and Orimtnlism, Poetry, aud the Mille11nium: 71Je Checkered Life of Natha11iel Bmsscy Hal/Jed, 1751- 1830 (Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass, 1983). 26. T he volume was beautifully produced and included Jones's fi rst three anniversary discourses. Seven hundred copies were shipped to Europe, with a specially bound copy for presentation to !Gng George Ill , who received it with praise and gratitude. Translation into German and French followed (1794 and 180 5, respectively). As knowledge of Sir William's hypothesis spread, it contributed significantly to the vogue for India, Sanskrit, and the comparative study of languages, particularly among young scholars and poets associated wirl1 rl1e romantic movement. 27. Edward Said, Oriemalism (New York: Vintage, 1978), pp. 77-80 and passim. Similar views can be found in Cohn, Colonialism and Its Fonu.s of Knowledge; Mukl1erjee, Sir William Jotw; Peter Marshall, The Bt·itish Discovery of Hinduism i11 the Eighteentb Cmtury (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 19 70 ); and numerous others. Cf. the argument of T homas Trautman n, Aryan.s and Bl'itish I ndia (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997). 28. Said, Orienta/ism, pp. 77-78. 29. Works ofSit· William jo1w, 2:3 - 4. Composed 12 July 1783, on board the Ct·ocodile, en route to India. 30. Cannon, L etters of Sir William Jones, I :239-40 (29 Aug. 1777, to Viscount Althorp ): "I hope my friend Bryant would excuse me, if he knew rl1at I reckon his Ancient Mythology amo ng my books of entertainment: I have almost finished the two fi rst volumes of it, and have been highly pleased, though by no means perfectly satisfied with it. There is an infinite profusion of learning in his book, bur I cannot help thinking his system very uncertain .... T his is the first long work, not relating to Law, that r have read since I went to the Temple." T he wo rk in question is Jacob Bryant, A New System; or, an Analysis ofAr1cimt Mythology, Wheri11 atl Attempt is made to divest TI-aditioll of Fable; and to reduce the Truth to its Origitml Purity. It1 this Work isgivm a11 History ofthe Babylo11iam, Chaldaeatls, ~yptiaru, Canaanites, Helladians, Io11ians, Leleges, Doria11s, Pelasgi; also ofthe Scythae, b1doscythae, Ethiopiam, Phoeneciaus, 71Je Whole contaius ar1 Accou11t ofthe Pl'incipal E l'C11ts in the fi1'St Ages, from the Deluge to the Dispersion: Also of the various M igratiom, which emued, a11d the Settlemmts made afterwards i11 diffet·mt Pm·ts; Circumstmzces ofgl'eat Comequence, which were mbsequmt to the Gmtile History of Moses (London: T. Payne, 1774; 2d ed., 1775-76; 3d ed., 6 vols.,

246

247

Notes to Pages 85 - 90

Notes to Pages 90-94

1807). A summary and sample of Bryant 's work arc available in Burton Feldman and Robcrt D . Richardson, eds., TI1e Rise ofModer1l Mythology, 1680-1860 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1972), pp. 241-48 . 31. Cannon, Letters of Sir William Jones, 1 :242 (23 Sept. 1777, to Viscount AI thorp). The importance of Bryant and rl1c "Mosaic ctlmology" he advocated has been rightly emphasized b)• Trautmann, A1·yaus aud British India, pp. 28 - 6 1. 32. Bryant, A New System, 1st cd ., pp. vii and xiv. 33. Among rl1e most significant critiques was John Richardson, A Dissertatio11 011 the Lauguages, Litcratm·e, a11d Ma1mers of Easten1 Natiom. Origi1mlly prefixed to a Dictio11m·y of Penia11, Ambic, n11d E1lglish, 2d ed. To which is added Pan II co11tai11i11g additional observatio11S. TogetiJel'lllitb f twther remarks Oil A 11ew aualysis ofa11cient mythology (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1778). Jones helped Richardson wirl1 rl1e dictionary to which the cri tique was appended and was surely f.1miliar with its contents. Among Bryant's greatest admirers was William Blake, who as an apprentice engraver contributed some of tl1e plates to tl1e book and used it thereafter as a prime source for his own mytl1ological writings. The contrast between Richardson's and Blake's responses is instructive and can be put schematically. Bryant was antirl1ctical to Enlightenment sensibilities but attractive to m ose of the incipient romantic movement. Jones managed to straddle the two but in m is instance tilted more toward m e latter. 34. "On the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India," Works ofSil· William jo11es, 3:319- 97. 35. Ibid., 3:329 - 47. 36. Ibid., 3:343-4 5: "I am sensible, how much these remarks will oAcnd the warm advocates for ludia11 antiquity; but we must not sacrifice trurl1 to a base tear of giving oftcnce: that t11c ~das were actually written before the flood , I shall never believe ... In the Ma11ava Stistra, to conclude this disgrcssion, rl1c measure is so uniform and melodious, and tl1e style so perfectly Sa11SCI'it, or polished., that me book must be more modern than the scriptures of Moses, in which tl1c simplicity, or rather nakedness, of m e Hebrew dialect, metre, and style, must convince every unbiassed man of t heir superior antiquity." 37. Ibid., 3:386. 38. Max Miiller acknowledged Jones's pioneering work on comparative mythology and showed he had read it closely but treated it with smug condescension in an essay, "On False Analogies in Comparative Theology," Chips from a. Germatt Wo1·kshop (New York: Charles Scribners, 1876 ), 5:98- 132. 39 . Ibid ., 3:387. 40. Ibid., 3:387- 92, which is clearly intended as refutation of) ames Burnet; Lord Monboddo, Ofthe Origi11 a11d Progress ofLanguage, 6 vols. (Edinburgh: ). Balfour, and London: T. Cabell , 1774 - 92), 1:580- 665. On the relatio ns of Jones and Monboddo, see Cannon , Life arutMirldofOriental}ot1es, pp. 224, 324; Rosane Rocher, "Lord Mo nboddo, Sanskrit and Comparative Linguistics," ]ot~malofthe American OrimtalSociety !00 (1980): 173 - 80, and rl1c literature cited therein. T he two men corresponded in 1788, at which time Monboddo expressed warm appreciation for rl1c linguistic analysis in Jones's "Third Anniversary Discourse." Now convinced that Sanskrit was rl1e earliest of all languages, Monboddo unsuccessfully tried to persuade Sir William tl1at it was brought to both India and Greece by the Egyptians. 41. Works ofSir William jones, 3:386. 42. "The T hird Anniversary Discourse, on the Hindus, delivered 2d of February, 1786," WorksofSil' William jones, 3:34-35. 43. Sec, e.g., Hans Aarsl eft~ The Study of La11guage i11 E1lgla11d, 1780- 1860 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1967), pp. 123-36; and Winfi·ed Lehman, A Reader i11 Ni11etcC11th Ce11t1wy Historical Ind.o-Europeml Litlgt~istics (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1967), pp. 10- 20 . 44. T he anniversary discourses arc found in the Wot·ks of Sir William jones, 3: 1-252.

45. "The Fourth Anniversary Discourse, on t11c Arabs, delivered 15th of February 1787 ," in ibid., 3:59. 46. Ibid., 3:65-66. 47. "The Fifth Annivcrsar)• Discourse, on the Tartars, delivered 21st of February 1788," in ibid., 3:81. 48. Ibid., 3:97. 49. "The Seventl1 Anniversary Discourse, on tl1c Chinese, delivered 25th of February I 790," in ibid., 3: 148. 50 . "Third Anniversary Discourse," in ibid., pp. 34, 42, and 44, respectively. 51. "The Sixth Anniversary Discourse, on the Persians, delivered 19th ofFebruary 1789 ," in ibid., 3: 125. 52. "Sixth Anniversary Discourse," in ibid. , 3: 135. Cf. tl1c argument oftercd in the "Ninth Anniversary Discourse, on the Origin and Families of Nations, delivered 23d ofFcbruary 1792," in ibid. , 3:189- 90: "Those three races, how variously soever they may at present be dispersed and intermixed, must (i f the preceding conclusions be justly drawn) have migrated originally fi·om a central cou ntry, to find which is the problem proposed for solution . Suppose it solved; and give any arbitrary name to that centre: let it, if you please, be Iran. . .. if you consider the scats of all the migrating nations as points in a surrounding figure, you will perceive, that the several rays, diverging from Ira11, may be drawn to mem witl10ut any intersection; but this will not happen , if you assume as a centre Ambia, or Egypt; India, Tartary, or Cbi11a: it follows, that I rim, or Persia (1 contend for the mea11i11g, 110t tbe uame), was tl1e central country, which we sought." 53. Jones used the term "race" interchangeably witl1 "family," "natio n," and "branch ." In rl1e ninth discourse it appears at 3:185, 186, 189, 194, 195. 54. Ninth discourse, in WorksofSir Williamjo11es, 3: 191. 55. Sec tl1e discussion in the "Ninrl1 Anniversary Discourse," 3: 19 1-97. On Jones's religious views, the best treatment is Mukherjee, Sit· William ]mm, pp. 97- 104; along witl1 Canno n, Life a11d. Mi11d of Oriental ]o11es, pp. 268-69. Sec also Jones's paean to H oly Scripture in the sixth discourse, 3: 183-84, and the series of propositions witl1 which he resolved his religious doubts while still a student at H arrow, Wo1·ks ofSil' William ]ottes, 1 : 115- 17. 56. Jones invoked Bryant "witl1 reverence and aftcction" and discussed the limitations o f his book at the beginning of h.is "Th.i1·d Anniversary Discourse," 3:25- 27. He offered similar remarks toward tl1e end of the ninrl1 discourse, 3:197-201 , where he noted that he had read Bryant three times "with increased attention and pleasure." For his part, Bryant was more irked by Jones's criticisms tl1an flattered by his praise, as shown by a letter he wrote in jul)• 1794, shortly after Sir William's deatl1: "As to Sir W. Jones, he is by many tl10ught to shew great duplicity and to be very unfair in his allegations .... A writer more inconsistent and so often in opposition to hm1self, I never encountered." Cited by Cannon, Life a11d Mi11d. of OrientaL ]o11es, p. 339. 57. "Ninth Anniversary Discourse," Wo1·ks ofSir William ]oues, 3: 197. 58. Ibid., 3: 186. 59. Ibid.,3: 194-96. 60. l bid., 3: 199. 6 1. T hus, e.g., "Sixtl1 Anniversary Discourse," in ibid., 3:133-35. 62. "Ninth Anniversary Discourse," in ibid., 3: I 97. 63. "Eighth Anniversary Discourse, on tl1e Bordcrers, Mountaineers, and Islanders o f Asia, delivered 24th February 1791 " in ibid. , 3: 182 . 64. Cannon, Life and. Mi11d. ofOrimtal jo11es, p. 269, describes Jones's high regard for Barrow and q uotes him as having said the man could have been "the sublimest matllcmatician , if his religious turn of mind had not made him the deepest theologian of his age."

248

249

Notes to Pages 94-102

Notes to Pages 103-105

65. "Eig hth Anniversary Discourse," in Works ofSir William ]oues, 3: 182. 66. Olender, Lrmg11ages ofParadise; Leon Poliakov, 11Je A1·ya11. Myth: A H irtol'y of Racist and Nationalist ldens iu Em·opc (New York: Basic, 1974 ); George Masse, Towm·d the Fi11at Solt1tio11: A Hirtory ofEuropcrm Racism ( Madison : University ofWisconsin Press, 1985 ); Klaus von See, Bm·bar, Germane, A1·ier: Die S11che 11n.ch der idmtitiit de1· Dmtschm (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1994). 67. For attempts to theorize " Indo-European" in less problematic fashion, sec Mario Alinci, Origiui delle liug11e d'E11ropa, Vol. 1: Lrr. teoria della cOIJtilluitn (Bologna: II Mullino, 1996); Franco C rcvatin , /Ucerche mil' a11tichitn indoeuropea (Trieste: Edizioni LI NT, 1979 ); and N. S. Trubctzkoy, "Gedanken tiber d as lndogermanenproblcm, Acta Liuguistica 1 ( 19 39 ): 81-89. For more radical reflections, Alexander H ausler, "Archaologie und U rsprung dcr Indogermancn ," DasAltertum 38 ( 1992): 3- 16; jean-Paul DcMoulc, " Realitc des indocuropeens: Lcs Divcrscs Aporics du modele arborescent," R.evne de l'histoi1·e des religions 208 ( 1991 ): 169-202; Bern fried Sch lerath, " 1st cin Rnum/Zcit Modell fur cine rekon struiertc Sprachc mog lich?" ZcitscJJI"ift jii1· 11e1;gleicbende Spmchwissenschaft 95 ( 1981 ): 17 5- 202;

ren u nd ungesraltetcn Bevolkcrung in cine festc form, wie sic mit eincm Gcwaltakt ihren An gan g nahm, mar mit Iauter Gewaltaktcn zu Endc gcfiihn wurde,- dass dc r aIteste ,Staat " dcmgemiiss als cine furcht bare Tyrannci, als ci ne zerclrtickcndc unci rUcksichtslosc Maschinerie au fi:rat und forrarbeitctc, bis ein solcher Rohstoffvon Volk und Halbthicr cndlich n.icht mar durchgeknetct und gcfiigig, sondcrn, auchgcfm·mt war. lch gcbrauchtc das Won ,Staat": cs versteht sich von sclbst, wcr dam.it gcmeint ist- irgcndcin Rudel blonder Raubtl1iere, cine Erobcrer- und Herrcn- Rassc, wclche, kriegcrisch organisierr und mit dcr Kraft, zu orga.nisicren , unbedenk.lich ihrc furchtbaren Tatzen auf cine dcr Zahl nach vielleicht ungch euer uberlegcne, abcr noch gestaltlose, noch schweifcndc Bcvolkcrung lcgt." Cf. Beyond Good and

Evil §257. 4. Genealogy, p. 43 ( I § 11 ): " Dicsc Trager d er niederdruckcndcn und vergcltungsllister -

1. Friedrich Nietzsche, On. the Ge11ealogy ofMom;/s, trans. Walter Kaufimnn and R. ]. Hollingdalc (New York: Vintage, 1969), pp. 40- 41 , with modification of the division into paragraphs to conform with N ietzsche's original Gcnmn text (I §11 ): " n icht vicl bcsser als losgclassene Raubticrc. Sic gcnicssen da die Freiheit von allem sozialen Zwang, sic haltcn sich in dcr Wildnis schadlos fiir die Spannung, welche cine lange Einschliessung und Einfriedigung in den Frieden d er Gemcinschaft gicbt, sie rrctcn in dk Unschuld des RaubthierGewissens z uriick, als frohlo ckendc Ungchcucr, wclch c viellcicht von eincr schcusslichen Abfolge von Mord , Nicdcrbrennung, Schandung, Fo ltcrung mit cincm Ubermuthc und seclischen Gleichgcwichte davongchcn , wie als ob nur ein Sn adentenstreich vollbrach t sci, ilberzeugt davon, d ass die Dich ter fli r lange nun wiedcr Etwas zu singcn und zu rtihmcn haben. Aufdcm Grunde allcr dicscr vornchmen Rassen ist das l~1ubthier, die prachtvolle nach Bcurc und Sieg llistcrn schweifcnde blonde Bestie nicht zu erkcnncn; es bedarf fiir diesen verborgcnc n Grund von Zeit zu Zeit der Entladung, das Thier amass wicdcr heraus, muss wicd er in die Wildnis zurtick: -romischer, arabischcr, gcnnanischcr, japanesischer Adcl, ho merische H eiden, skandinavische Wikinger-in diescm BcdUrfnis sind sic sich aile glcich . Die vornch mcn Rassen sind es, wclche d en Begriff ,Barbar" auf all den Spuren hinterlasscn haben ...." All German texts arc taken fi·om Nietzsche IM:rke: Kritische Gesamtamgabe, Giorgio Colli and Mazzino Montinari, cds. (Berlin: Walter d e G ruytcr, 1967- ). 2. Genealogy, pp. 41 - 42 (1 §1 1 ): "Pcrik.lcs hebt die (!a0UJ.ll<X dcr Athcncr mit Auszeich nung hcrvor -ihrc Glcichgilltigkcit und Vcrachtung gcgcn Sichcrheit, Lcib, Leben, Bchagcn, ihrc entsetzlichc H eitcrkeit und Tiefc dcr Lust in allcm Zcrstiiren , in allen Wolllisten des Sicgs und d er Grausamkcit- AIIes fasste sich fur Die, welche daran Iitten, in das Bild des ,Barbaren", des ,boscn Feindcs", etwa des ,Gothen", des , Vandalen" zusammcn. Das tiefe, cisige Misstraucn, das der Deutsche errcgt, sobald cr zur Macht kommt, auch jetzt wiederist immcr noch cin Nachschlag jencs unausloschlichen Entsetzens, mit dcm jahrhudertc lang Europa dcm Wlithcn d cr blondcn germanischen Bcstic z ugesehn hat ( obwo hl zwischen alten Germanen Lmd uns Dcutschen kaum cine Begrifls -, geschweige cine Blutsvcrwandtschaft bcstcht )." 3. Ibid., p. 86 (II §17). The full passage reads: "die Einfiigung ciner bishcr ungehemm-

ncn Instinktc, die Nachkommen alles europaischcn und nichteuropaischen Sk.laventhums, aller vorarischcn 13evolkerung in Sonderheit- sie stcllcn den lWckgrmg d cr Mcnschheit d ar! Dicsc , Wcrkzeuge d cr C ultur" sind cine Schandc des Menschen, und chcr ein Verdacht, ein Gcgenargumcnt gcgen ,Cultur" uberhaupt! Man mag im besten Rechtc sein, wcnn man vor der blonden Bcstic auf dcm Grundc allcr vornc hmen Rassen die Furch t n.icht los wird und au f d er Hut ist: abcr wcr mochte nicht hunde rtmal Iieber sich fiirchten, wenn cr zugleich bcwundcrn darf, als sich nicbt ftirchtcn , abcr dabci den ekelhaftcn Anblick des Missrathencn , Vcrk.leinerren, Vcrkiimmerten, Vergifteten nicht mehr los werden konncn? Und ist das nicht m1ser Vcrhangniss?" 5 . The appc~rancc o f tl1e adjective in tl1e phrase "the blond Germanic beast" ( de~· blondmgermanische~~ Bestie) is a.lso likely to be significant, since no otl1cr group is singled out in like fashio n. 6. In general, o n Nazi interpretations and approp riations of Nietzsche, sec S teven Aschheim, The Nietzsche Legacy i11 Germany, 1890-1990 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1992), pp. 232- 307, 315- 30. 7. For a brief discussion of K.~ufmann's importance and a critique of his position, see Walter H. Sokcl, " Political Uses and Abuses of Nietzsche in Walter K.1ufmann's Image of Nietzsche," NictzsciJc Stttdim 12 (1983 ): 436 - 42, which was published in tandem witl1 Rudolf E. Kuenzi; , " The Nazi Appropriation of Nietzsche," pp. 428 - 35. 8. Walter Kaufmann, Nietzsche: Philosophel) Psychologist, Antichrist (Princeton , NJ: Princeton University Press, 1950), p . 196. K.1ufimum repeated tl1cse assertions in the note that accompanies his translation of tl1c crucial passage from the Genealogy of Morals ( I § 11, p. 40 n. 3) and adduces some very strained arguments for his "lion" interpretation: " Without the image of the lio n , we lose not only some of Nietzsche's poetry as well as any chance to understand o ne of his best known coinages; we also lose an echo o f t he crucial first chapter of Zaratlmrtm." 9 . Cf. pp. 196 and 260 of the first ed ition (1950) with pp. 225 and 296 - 97 o f tl1e fourth (1974). Also excised was his initial concession ( l st ed. , p. 260) t hat the image of tl1e blond beast was " manifestly ill-chosen." 10. Gemn.logy of Morals, pp. 30- 31, mo dified to restore tl1e end parenthesis in Nietzsche's text, which Kaufmann omits (1 §5 ): " lm lateinischen maim (dem ich ~ eA.a<; zur Seite stelle) konnrc d cr gcmeine Mann als dcr Dunkclfarbige, vor allem als dcr Schwarzhaarige (,hie 11iger crt- ") gckcnnzeichnct sein, als der vorarische Insasse des itaiischcn Bodcns, der sich von dcr hcrrschcnd gcwordnen blonden, niimlich arischen Erobcrcr-R.1ssc durch d ie Farbe am dcutlichstcn abhob; wenigstens bot m ir das Galische den gcnau e ntsprechenden Fall -fin (zum 13cispicl im Namen Fin -Gat ) das abzeichncndc Wort des Adds, zuletzt dcr Gutc, Edlc, Reine, urspriinglich dcr Blondkopf, im Gegensatz zu de n dunk.lcn schwarz haarigcn Ureinwoh ncrn. Die Kclten, bcilaufig gesagt, waren durchaus cine blonde R.1sse; man tut Unrecht, wenn man jcnc Strcifen cincr wescntlich dunkclhaarigen Bevolkerung, die sich auf sorgfliltigeren cthnographischcn Karren D eu tsch lands bemcrkbar machcn, mit irgcndwelcher

250

251

Ulf Drobin, " lndogermanischc Religion und Kulturl Eine Analyse des Bcgriffes lndogermanische," Temenos 16 ( 1980): 26 - 38; " Indocuropccrna i mytoch forskning," in GroStcinsland, ed., Nordisk Herlendom (Od cnsc: Odcnsc Univcrsitctsforlag, 1996), pp. 65-85; and Paolo Rnmat, "Linguistic Reconstruction and Typology," ]ounml of I11do-Europcm1 Studies 4

(1976): 189-206.

Chapter 5

Notes to Pages 105- 106

Notes to Pages 106 - 108

kcltischen Herkunft und Blutmischung in Zusammcnhang bringt, wie dies noch Virchow tut: vielmehr schHigt an dicsen Stellen die vomrische Bevolkerung Deutsch lands vor. (Das glciche gilt bcinahe fiir ganz Europa: im wcsentlichen hat die unterworfnc R.assc schliesslich dasclbst wieder die Oberhand bekommen, in Farbc, Ktirze des Schadcls, vielleicht sogar in den intcllektuellen und sozialen lnstinkten: wer steht uns daftir, ob nicht die modernc Demokratie, der noch modernereAnarchismus und namcntlich jener Hang z ur ,commtwe", zur primitivsten Gescllschafts-Form, der allen Sozialisten Europas jetzt gemcinsam ist, in dcr Hauptsachc einen ungeheuren Nachschlag zu bedeuten hat- und dass die Eroberer- und H en·C11-Rassc, die der A1·icr, auch physiologisch im !Jmerliegen ist? )" 11. T he name Fingal, which Nietzsche invoked, also has its problems. Ostensibly, it means "the blond Gael" or "the shining Celt," but tl1c name is unattested in genuine Celtic literature. Ratl1er, tl1is is tl1c warrior hero of James Macpherson's fraudulent "Ossian," d iscussed in chap. 3. 12. Like Wagner, Nietzsche sought to homologize racial and political categories but d id so in very difterenr fashion. Bom men made Aryans the heroes of tl1eir stories, but Wagncr associated them witl1 exploited workers and revolutionaries, in contrast to Jews-cumbourgeoisie. Nietzsche, for his part, conAated Aryans ru1d aristocrats while aligning prcAryans with ilie left-\vin g masses. In his celebrated work The Destmctio11 ofReasorz, tmns. Peter Palmer (London: Merlin Press, 1980 ), Georg Lukacs argued that opposition to socialism was the hidden leitmotif in all Nietzsche's work, but this reflects his obsession more than Nietzsche's. Still, Nietzsche was hardly "tl1c last apolitical German." Rather, as he himself acknowledged, his positions were best captured in the phrase of Georg Brandes: "aristocratic radicalism." See further Bruce Detwiler, Nietzsche a'td the Politics of Aristocmtic Radicalism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990). Also relevant arc Fredrick Appel, Nietzsche contra Democracy (Ithaca, NY: Cornell U niversity Press, 1999); and the essays included in Luc Ferry and Alain Renault, eds., Why We At•e Not Nietzscheans, trans. Robert de Loaiza (Chicago: U niversity of Chicago Press, 1997). 13. Armand de Q uatrcfages, La R ace prussietme (Paris: H achette, 187 J ); English trans., The P1·tmia1t Race Ethnologically Considered, to which is appwded some accotmts of the bombardment of the Mmemn of Nawral History, etc. (London: Virtus, 1872). 14. Carl Gustav Cam s, Symbolik der mmschlichen Gestalt: Bin Handbu.ch zur MetiSchm kcnnmis (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1853). In his more extreme moments, Carus associated blond hair witl1 the color of the sun and blue eyes with tlut of the sky, which identified Aryans as "day people," in contrast to ilic darker, lesser races. 15. Rudolf Virchow, "0ber die Mcmodc der wissenschaftlichcn Anthropologie: Einc Antwort an Hcrrn de Quatrcfages," Zeitschrift fiir Etlmologie 4 (1872): 300- 319, " Die Deutsch en und die Germanen," Verhandltmgen der Berlimt· Gesellschaft fiir AMhropologie, Ethnologic tmd Urgeschchte ( 1881): 68-75, "Die Vcrbrcitung des blonden und des brtincttcn Typus in Mittelcuropa," Sitztmgsberichte der kiiniglich preussischm Akademie du· Wissmschaftm I (1885): 39- 47, "Gesammtbericht tiber die von dcr dcutschen antl1ropologischen Gcsellschaft vcranlassten Erhebungen tiber d ie Farbe der Haut, der Haarc, und dcr Augen dcr Schuhlkindcr in Deutschland," At·chiv fiir At1th1·opologie 16 (1886): 275-475. 16. Sec, e.g., Virchow, " Die Dcutschcn und die Germanen," pp. 69 - 70. For fuller discussions, see Benoit Massin, "From Virchow to Fischer: Physical Anthropology and 'Modern Race Theories' in Wilhelmine Germany," in George Stocking, cd., "Volksgeist» as Met!Jod a11d Ethic (Madison: University ofWisconsin Press, 1996), pp. 79-154; Andrea Orsucci, Orimt - Okzident: Nietzsches Vermch eitter Losliistmg vom ettt·opiiischm Weltbild (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1996), pp. 341- 46; George Mosse, Towat·d the Fittal Solution: A History of European Racism ( Madison: U niversity ofWisconsin Press, 1978), pp. 90-93; and Leon Poliakov, The Aryan Myth: A History of Racist and Nationalist Ideas in Europe (New York: Basic, 1974), pp . 261- 66.

. 17. !1; addition. to the works cited below in n. 18, the following were also part of N~c.rzsche s ?nvare hbrar~•: Alex:ll1dcr Bain, Geist tmd Kiirper: Die Theorim tiber ihregegensctttgen Beztelnmgen (Le1pzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1874); Eugen Dreher, Der Danvinismm tmd sein_: Ko~ISetpmtzctt in l~ismtschaftlicher tmd sozialer Beziehung (Halle: C. E. M. Pfefter, 1882 ); Franc1s Galton, Inqumes mto Htmur.tt Fawlty a11d Its Developmmt (London: Macmillan, 1883!; Ludim~r H ermann, Gt·tmdt·ifl der Physiologic, 5tl1 ed. (Berlin: A. Hirschwald, 18~4 );. Wilhelm H1s, Unsere Kiirpetfi!YIII tmd das physiologischc Problem ihrer Entstehung (LeipZig: Vogel, 1874); Friedrich R.atzel, Attthropo-Geographie (Stuttgart: J. Engclhorn, 1882); and Oscar Schmidt, Descendenzlehre tmd Darwinismus (Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1873). I am gratefu l to Sander GilmaJ1 fo r pointing out to me the importance of tl1is side

22. Louis }acolliot, Les Ugislatetm religimx: Manou-Moise- Mahomet (Paris: A. Lacroix, 1876). The fact that Nietzsche owned and used this traJ1slation (sec Nietzsches Biblioth~k, p. 2~) was. reco.gnized by Anacleto Vcrrccchia, Zamthmtrrr.s E11de: Die Katnstrophe Ntetzschesm Ttwm (V1enna: Hermann Bohlaus, 1986), p. 79; its importance has been given much fuller consideration by Cristiano Grottanelli, "Caste c fun zioni arianc: Jacolliot, Nietzsche, Gobincau," forthcoming. 23. Jacolliot, Lcs Ugislatetmreligicnx. Most important is his discussion of me Candahis pp. 98-120. Sec also Jacolliot's La Bible dans l'Inde: Vie de Iezetts Ch1·istrza (Paris: A. L~~roix: 1859 ), English trans., VJe Bible itl btdia: Hindoo Origitt of Hebrew m1d Christiatl Revelation ~~ew York:. G. W. Dillingham, J 887]), Chrisma etle Christ (Paris: A. Lacroix, 1874), and Les 'lmdmom mdo-em·opi!emtes (Paris: A. Lacroix, 1878). 24. Les Ugislatetws, p. 114: "Lcs prctcndu Semites, cux-mcmcs, furent si bien des cscla~cs tch.andalas emigres qu'ils ne purcnt jamais s'clcver au-dessus des conceptions vulgaires qu 1ls ava1cnt emportces de Ia merc-patrie. Les tchandalas ignorruus n'avaient gucrc vu dans Ie cultc mdou que les manifestations cxtcrieures abandonnccs a Ia plebe, ricn dans cc que

252

253

of Nietzsche's interests.

18. Thcodor Pocsche, Die Arier: Ei't Beitrage zur IJistorischm Anthropologie (Jena: Hermann ~ostcnoblc, 18?~ ). This book, which tries to locate the Aryan Urheimat in places where h1gh rates ofalbm1sm occur, is listed in Nietzsches Bibliothek (Weimar: R. Wagner Sohn, 1942 ), p. 29. Other works Nietzsche owned mat were engaged more broadly in ilie discourse of Aryans includ.e Friedrich Max Mtiller, Essays, Band II: Beitriige z11r vergleichendm Mythologte tmd Ethologte (Le1pz1g: W. Engelmann, 1869); Paul de Lagarde, Ubcr diegegenwii1·tige Lage des deutschm ~ei~hs (Gottingcn: Dietrich, 1876); Ernest Renru1, Philorophische Dialoge tmd Fmgmmte (LeiJ)Zig: Z. Koschny, 1877); and H ans von Wolzogen's translation of Die Edda: Giitterlicder tmd Hcldmlieder (Leipzig: P. Redan, n.d. [1876?]). 19. Cf. Beyo11d Good rr.nd Evil, §§200, 208, 224, 242, 261. 20. For tl1e fullest discussion of his reaction to and usc of this text see Anncmaric Etter "Nietzsche und das Gesctzbuch des Manu," Nietzsche Stndim 16 (19S7): 340-52. ' . 21. ~hristophcr Middleton, ed. and trans., Selected Letters of Ft·iedricb Nietzsche (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1996), pp. 297- 98: "Einc wesentliche Belehrung vcrdanke ich diesen ~ctzten. Wochcn: ich fund das Gcsctzbuch des Manu in einer franzosischcn Obersctzung, die 111 lnd1en, linter gcnauer Controlc dcr hochgestelltesten Priester und Gclchrten dasclbst gemacht worden ist. Dies absolut arische ErzcugniB, cin Pricstcrcodcx dcr M oral auf Grund: lagc dcr V~dcn, der.Kasten-Vorstcllung und uralten Herkommcns-nicht pcssimistisch, wic s~hr auch 1~nmer pnesterhaft-crganzt meinc Vo rstcllungen tiber Religion in der mcrkwiird!gsten We1sc. Ich bekennc den Eindruck, daB mir Alles andere, was wir von groBcn MoraiGcsctzgcbungcn habcn, als Nachahmung und selbst Carakatur davon erschcint: voran der Aegypticismus; abcr sdbst Plato scheint mir in allen Hauptptmkten cinfach bloB gut belehrt durch eincn Bmhmancn. Die Juden erscheinen dabci wei cine Tschandala-Rasse, welchc von ihren Herre11 die Principien lcrnt, auf die hin cine Priesterschaft Herr wird und ein Volk organisirt."

Notes to Pages 109- 110

Notes to Pages 111- 112

nous om laissc lcs Chaldccns, leurs descendants, ne prouvc que sur le terrain rcligicux ils sc soient cleves aux croyances philosophiques et spirituelles des brahmcs." 25. Friedrich Nietzsche, 1111ilight ofthe Ido/.s, "T he ' Improvers' of Mankind," §2, trans. R. ]. H ollingdalc (Baltimore: Penguin, 1990), pp. 66 - 67. " Die Zahmung cines T hicres seine ,Besserung" nennen ist in unsrcn Ohren beinahe ein Scherz. Wcr weiss, was in Mcnagericn gcschicht, zweifclt daran, dass die Bestie dasclbst ,vcrbcssert" wird. Sic wird geschwacht, sic wird wenigcr schadlich gcmacht, sic wird durch den deprcssivcn Aftckt der Furcht, durcb Schmcrz, durch Wunden, durch Hunger z ur km11klmjtm Bestic. -Nicht anders steht es mit dem gczahmten Menschcn, den der Priester ,verbcsscrr" hat. lm fruhen Mittclalter, wo in der That die Kirche vor allem cine Menagerie war, machte man allerwarrs auf die schonsten Exemplarc der ,blondcn Bcstic" Jagd- man ,verbesserre" zum Beispiel die vornchmcn Germanen. Aber wie sah hintcrdrcin ein solcher ,vcrbcsscrtc", in's Kloster verfli hrtcr Germane aus1Wic cine Caricatur des Mcnschen, wic cine Missgcburt : er war zum ,Sunder" gewordcn, er stak im Kafig, man hattc ihn zwischen Iauter schreckliche Bcgriflc cingesperrt ." Cf. The A11ti·Christ §22. 26. 1l1>ilight of the Idols, "The ' Improvers' of Mankind," §3: " Ersichtlich sind wir hier nicht mch r unter Thierbandigcrn: cine hundcrt Mal mildere und vcrnunftigere Art Mensch ist die Voraussctzung, um auch nur den Plan eine r solchcn Zlichnmg zu concipircn. Man a tilmet auf, aus der christlichcn Krankcn- und Kcrkerluft in dicse geslindere, hohere, weitere Welt cinzutrctcn . Wic armsclig ist das , Neue Testament" gcgen Manu, wie schlccht riecht cs!" The insult couched in olfactory terms draws on anti-Semitic conventions. Cf. The Ami-Christ §46: "One would no more choose to associate with 'first Christians' than one would with Polish Jcws: not that one would need to prove so much as a single point against thcm .. . . Ncitl1er of them smell very pleasant" (p. 173, ellipsis in the original). [Wir wtirden uns ,crstc Christen" so wenig wie polnische Juden z um Umgang wahlen: nicht dass man gcgen sic auch nur cincn Einwand notl1ig hatte . ... Sic riechen bcidc nicht gut.] It is also interesting to compare Nietzsche's valorization of Mrmu over tl1c New Testament with the judgment )acolliot voices about tl1c Hebrew Bible: "We know nothing more interesting than to read Mm111 with the Bible in front of us. The latter book, a code of pillage and debauchery, which never knew the immortality of the soul, can not sustain the tiniest comparison witl1 the ancient law book of the Hindus." [Nous ne savons ricn de plus intcressant que de lire Manou avec Ia Bible sous les yeux. Cc dernic r livre, code du pillage c t de Ia dcbauche, qui n'a point conm1 l'immortalite de l'amc, nc pcut soutcnir Ia plus petite comparaison avec le vieux livre de Ia loi des lndous.] Les Ugislatenrs religieux, p. 54. 27. 11vilightofthe Idols, "The 'Improvers' of Mankind," §4. 28. Ibid.: " D as Christcnthum, aus jlidischer Wurzcl und nur vcrstiindlich als Gcwiichs diescs Bodcns, stellt die Gegcnbcwcgung gcgen jedc Moral der Zlichn111g, dcr Rasse, des Privilegiums dar:- es ist die rmtiarische Religion par excellence: das C hristenthum die Umwcrtllllng allcr arischcn Wertl1c, dcr Sieg dcr Tschandala-Wcrthc, das Evangcliu m den Armen, den Nicdrigen geprcdigt, der Gesammt-Aufstand alles Nicdcrgctretcncn, Elcndcn, Missratl1cnen, Schlcchtwcggckommencn gcgen die , Rassc'- die unsterblichc TschandalaRachc als R eligion der Liebe." Cf. The A1~ti-Christ §§55- 57. 29. For some good discussions, sec Orsucci, Orimt- Okzident, pp. 279- 340; and the essays collected in Jacob Golomb, cd., Nietzsche rmd jewish Culture (London: Routledge, 1997), csp. those of Steven Aschheim (pp. 3- 20), H ubert Cancik (55- 75 ), and Sander Gilman (76-100), which are preferable to the longer, but less probing, treatment of Weaver Santaniello, Nietzsche, God, rmd the jews (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1994), or Sarah Kofman, Le Mep1·is des juift: Nietzsche, les juift, l'anti-st!mitisme (Paris: Galilee, 1994). 30. Dc tlcf Brennecke, "Die blonde Bcstic: Yom Missvcrstandnis cines Schlagworts,"

Nietzsche Studien 5 ( 1976): 111-45. Sec also Klaus von Sec, " Die An f.i nge des rassistischen Germancnkultcs: (a) N i ctzsche- H crrcnr:~sse und , blonde Bcstic"," in his Detttsche Germanen-ldeologie (Frankfi.1rt am Main: Athcnaum, 1970), pp. 53 - 56, rcpr. (with minor modifications) in Brwbm ; Germane, A rie1·: Die Suche 11ach der Idcntitiit ncr D eu.tschw (H eidelberg: Carl Winter, 1994), pp. 287-89. 31. T hus, in Grimm's Worw·buch of the German language (1860), he observed "auch gilt blm1n nur vom haar dcr mensch en, nicht dcr thicrc, das pfcrd, der lowe hciszcn nie blo11d." Brennecke fou nd some exceptions to this rule, but tl1cy arc metaphoric extensions of the normal usage. 32. Poeschc, Die A1·ier, p. 12. 33. Tacitus, Gcrmanin4 : "I pse eorum opinionibus accedo, qui Gcrmaniac populos m1llis al.iis aliarum nationum conubiis infcctos propriam ct sinceram et tann1111 sui similem gentem cxtitisse arbitrannn·. undc habitus quoque corporum, tamquam [ms. variant: quamquam] in tanto hominum numcro, idem omnibus: truces et cacrulei oculi, rutilae comac , magna corpora ct tan tum ad impetum valida. laboris atquc opcrum non eadem paticntia, minjmcque sitim aesn1mquc tolcrare, frigora atque incdiam caclo solovc assucvcrunt." 34. On Nazi fctishization of the Tacitcan text, see Allan Lund, Gemtanmineologie im Nationa/.soz ialismm: Z rw R ezeptio1~ der 'Germn11ia' des Tacitus im " Drittcll l{eich" ( Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1995). T he issue of blond hair is treated at pp. 34- 35, 73- 74. For an example from that period, see Wilhelm Sicglin, Die blo11dm Hnnre der i11dog ermrmischen Volkc1· des Altu·t11ms- Ei11e Sammltmg der amikm Zeugnisse als Beit:mg z tw htdogerma~tmfmge (Munich:). F. Le hmann , 1935). 35. Gem1a11ia gemmlis 2.5-14:

On Celtis's importance, sec Kenneth C. Schel lhase, Thcittts in R ena issance Political Thought (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1976), pp. 31- 39. More broadly, sec Ulrich Muh lack, "Die Gcrmania im deutschen Nationalbewusstsci11 vor dem 19. Jahrhundcrt," in Herbert Jank.uhn and Dieter Timpe, cds. , Beitriige z rm1 Ve1'Stii11d11is der Ge1"111flllifl des Tacitt~s (Gottingen: Vandcnhocck and Ruprecht, 1989), I : 128- 54; and Luciano Canfora, " Tacito c Ia ,riscopcrta dcgli antichi Germani": dal II al III Reich," in Levie del c/assicismo (Rome: Laterza, 1989), pp. 30- 62. 36. Eduard Norden , Diegerma11iscbe Urgeschichte in Ta citus Germa11ia (Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1920), csp. pp. 42-84. It is probably worth mentioning tl1at Norden was a djstinguished German Jewish classicist, whose inquiry into Tacitus was surely prompted by the fctishized status this text held and the triumphalist readings it was given. For his trouble, he was deprived of his right to teach under National Socialism. His analyses have been pursued and extended by Klaus von Sec, " Ocr Germane als Barbar," ]nhrbt~chfttl' i11tcmntio11ale Ge,·1/lflltistik 13 ( 198 1): 42 - 72; Allan Lund, Zttm Gemlflnenbild der Riimer: Ei11e Ei11jt"ilmmg in die antike Etlmographie (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1990); and Klaus Bringmann, "Topoi in der taciteischen Germania," in Jan kuhn and Timpe, Beit1·iige z11m Verstiind1tis der Germmtia, pp. 59 - 78. 37. "BouOivoL 5& Eevo<; eov llEYU xal n:oi..A.Ov yi..auxov TS n:Civ iax.uQiii<; CO"Tl xal 1tllQQOv." 38. Poeschc, Die A1·iu; pp. 68 - 69.

254

255

Gens invicta manct toto notissima mundo .. . I ndigcna, haud alia ducens primordia genre . . . Pcctoribus sim iles ingentes corporis artus, Prodiga cui natura dedit per lactca colla Candida proccris tollcntes corpora membris. Flava come est, flavent oculi flavoquc colore.

Notes to Pages 112-114

Notes to Pages 114-118

39 . Agricola 11 : "The condition of their bodies is varied, and as a result of this there arc arguments. For the red hair and large limbs of the inhabitants of Caledonia assume a Germanic o rigin, while the darkened f.'lces and mostly curly hair of the Silures, and the position of Spain opposite them, attests that Iberian ancestors crossed over and settled their places of residence. Those who live close to the Gauls arc similar to them, either from the persistence of tl1eir origins or from tl1e fact tl1at when lands a rc juxtaposed, environment and climate give tl1eir characteristic disposition to peoples' bodies. Still, in general terms it is credible to tl1ink that the Gauls occupied tl1is ne ig hboring island. You will find tl1cir rites the re, belief in their superstitions, and the language is not much different. There is the same audacity in seeking danger and- when it comes- tl1e same fear iJl avoiding it." [habitus corporum varii atque ex co argumcnta. namquc rutilae Calcdoniam habitantium comae, magni artus Gcrmanicam originem adseverant; Silurum colorati vultus, torti plerumquc crincs ct posita contra Hispania Hiberos vetcres traiecisse casque scdcs occupassc fid em faciun t; proximi Gallis et similes sunt, seu d urante originis vi, scu procurrentibus in divcrsa terris positio cacli c01·poribus habitum ded it. in univcrsum tamen aestimanti Gallos vicinam insulam occupasse credible est. eorum sacra deprehendas, superstitio num persuasio nes; serrno haud multum d iversus, in deposcendis periculis eadem audacia et, ubi ad venere, in detrectandis eadem formido.] 40. For the Caledonians, Tacitus, Ag1·icola 11 ; for the Britons, Strabo 4.5.2; tor the Gau ls, Livy 38.17.3, and Ammianus Marccllinus 15.12. 1; for the Celts (Galatai), Diodorus Siculus 5.28.1 and Strabo 4.5 .2; fo r the Germans, Tacitus, Germanin. 4,Agricola 11, Strabo 7. 1.2, Procopius, Vattdalic Wfll' 1.2.2; for the T hracians, Xcnophanes, Fragment 16; tor the Gctes, Procopius, Vat1dalic Wat· 1.2.2; for the Scythians, Pseudo-Hippocrates, Ou Ait'S, Wa ters, aud Plnces 20; for the Mclankhlainoi and Sauromatai, Procopius, Va11dalic War 1.2.2; and for the Boudinoi, H crodows 4 .1 08 . Vitruvius 6 .3 speaks of northern peoples in general, and Aristophanes' reference to " fo reigners and red( -heads)" (xmois kai pyrrhiais, Ft·ogs 730 ) probably should be understood in the same f.1shion, altho ug h many commentators associate it with Thracians. 4 1. Livy 38.17.7: "si primum impetum quem, fervid o ingenio ct caeca ira cffundunt, sustinueris, Amant sudore ct lassitudine membra, labant arma; mollia corpora, molles, ubi ira consedit, ru1i mos sol pulvis sitis ut ferrum non admoveas prosternun t." 42. Gemtattia 4: " minimcque sitim aestumquc tolerare, fri gora atquc inediam caclo solove assueverunt." Note that hunger (it1ediam ) and thirst (sitim) here replace the moist and the d ry, following the logic: (a) thirst = dryness, (b) the moist= the opposite oftl1c dry, (c) hunger = the opposite of tl1irst, therefore, (d) hunger = tl1e mo ist. 43. This is explicitly advanced for tl1e Scythians, Sauromatai, and Amazons in the surviving sectio ns of the Pseudo-Hippocratic treatise Ot~Airs, Waters, a11dPiaces. Sec esp. chaps. 1724 and my discussion in Death, Wn.r, and Sacrifice (Chicago: University of C hicago Press, 199 1), pp. 198- 208. A lost sectio n of this text dealt with the Libyans, who were constituted as the polaJ· opposite of the Scytl1ians: a people of the hot, dry soutl1, in whom black bile was the dominant h umor. 44. Su-abo 4. 5 .2: "oi. M avOQec; etlllllXE<JTEQOt Tiiiv KcA.Tiiiv cim xal i'icrcrov ~av96TQtxcc; , xauvOTEQOL O eTOte; <Jol~tacrt." 45. See the occurrences listed in LiddcU-Scort, p. 1981. The related verb Mam1oo thus means " to make fla ccid , relax, weaken." Henry George Liddell and Robert Scott, A GreekEnglish Lexicon (Oxford : O xford University Press, 1968). 46. Diodorus Siculus 5.28.1: "Oi Oe raA.chat TOte; j.leV CJolj.lacriv ELCJlV EUj.I~Xetc;, Tate; oe craQl;\. xa9UYQOL xa\. AEUXOl, Tate; Oe XOj.iatc; ou ~IOVOV ex
in his Loeb tmnslation, completely misunderstood t11e meaning and significance of smxi katlmgroi which he rendered "witl1 rippling muscles." His translation is repeated in Lidd eiiScott, p. 856, in contmst to all otl1er occurre nces, where kathrtgros has its n-ansparent sense of"vcry wet." The related verb kn.thttg mittii means " to moisten well " and (in the passive) " to liquefy." 47. Diodo rus Siculus 5.25.2: "Lying for tl1e most part in the north, [the territory of the Celts) is win try and extremely cold. For in the winter season, on clo udy days it snows witl1 much icy moisture and the clear days are so full of ice and violent fi-osts that the rivers freeze and dam tllemsclves up by an act of their own nature." [XElj.IEVIl oexaTO TO 7TAetCJTOV U7TO Toe; OQXTOllc; XEL ~I EQt 6c; i:crn xal t)IUXQO Ota sub scptentrionibus nutriuntur gentes, inmanibus corporibus, cru1didis coloribus, derecto capillo et rufo, oculis caesis, sanguine multo ab umoris plenitate caclique refrigerationibus sunt conformati; q ui autem sunt proximi ad axem mcridianum subicctiquc solis cursui, brevioribus corporibus, colore fiJ sco, crispo capillo, oculis nigris, cruribus validis, sanguine exiguo solis impetu pcrficiunnar. itaque ctiam propter sanguinis cxiguitatem timidiorcs sunt ferro rcsistere, sed ardorcs ac fcbres subfcrunt sine timore, quod nutrita sunt eorum membm cum fervore; iraque corpo ra, quae nascuntur sub septcntrione, a fcb ri sunt timid iora et invecilla, snaguinis autem abundantia fe rro rcsistunt sine timore." 52. Ibid., 6 .1. 10 - 1l : "vcro inter spatium totius orbis terrarum rcgionisque medio mundi populus Roman us possidct fi nes. namque tcmpe1-atissimae ad utramque partem ct corporum membris animorumque vigoribus pro fortitudine sunt in l talia gentes. quemadmodum enim l ovis stella inter Martis ferventissimam et Saturni frigidissimam media currcns temperatur, eadem ratione Italia inter septentrionalem mcridianamque ab utraque parte mixtionibus tem peratas et invictas habet laudes. itaque consiliis rcfringit barbarorum virtutcs, forti manu me ridianorum cogitationcs. ita divina me ns civitatem populi Romani egregiam temperatamque regionem conlocavit, uti orbis terrarum imperii." 53. See, e.g., Aristotle, Politics 1327b20 . 54. On the issues and materials disw ssed in this section, sec tl1e splendid treatment of Maria Michaela Sassi, Ln. scicnza dell' rtomo 11ella Grecia atttica (Turin: Boringhieri, 1988), an English translation of which is forthcoming from the University of Chicago Press. 55. That Nietzsche was conscious of some of tllese strucmres is suggested by §§1-2 o f The Case of Wagn er (1888), where he champio ns Bizet's Carmm over Wagner's compositions while noting that the form er " has the refinement of a race, not an individual" (sie hat das Raj]i11emetlt eitlet' Rasse, nicht eims Eir1zelnen ). This noted, he goes o n to develop the following oppositions.

256

257

Notes to Pages 118-122 Wagner North Cold Moist

Bizet South Hot Dry

Cf. Beyond Good tmd E11il §§254-56.

Chapter 6

Notes to Pn.ges 122- 123 decay in the biological heritage or falling -otT of genetic quality" (p. 11 OS). On Pearson's service in the World Anti-Communist League, sec Harris, 77;e Dn1·k Side of Europe, pp. 51-55; Scott Anderson and Jon Lee Anderson , Imide tbe League: 'D;e Shockiug Expose of Ho11' Ter-

rorists, Nnzis, n11tf Lntin American Dentb Squads Hn11e Infiltrated the Wol'ld A11ti-Commm1ist League (New York: Dodd, Mead, 1986), esp. pp. 92 - 103; and Russ Bcllant, Old Nnzis, the New RigiJt, nnd the Republican P~~rty: Domestic Fascist Networks autf 'n;ei1· Effect 011 U.S. Cold Wnr Politics ( Boston: South End Press, 1991 ), pp. 61- 67. 6. Anderson and Anderson, Inside the League, p. 93. 7. Bellant, Old Nnzis, p. 64. 8. Pearson's earliest publications include Blood Gl'ottps aud Rnce, Eugcuics and Rnce, Itnce n11d Civilizatiou, Em·ly Civilisatiomofthc Nordic Peoples (all London: Clair Press, 1966;

1. Sec, inter alia, Emile Benveniste, Le vocalmlaire des iustitutiom i11do-ern•opeennes, vol. 2: Pouvoir; droit, r·cligion (Paris: Editions de minuit, 1969); Jarich G. Oosten, 'I11e W11r of the Gods: '17Je Social Code iu Indo-European Mythology (London: Routledge & Kcgan Paul, 1985 ); Fran~oi sc Bader, Ln la11gue des dieux, ou l'herrnetisme des poetes iudo-cu.ropeens ( Pisa: Giardini, 1989); Gregory Nagy, Greek Mythology and Poetics (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1990 ); Calvert Watkins, H ow to [(ill n Dmgo11: Aspects ofbtdo-Em·opcntt Poetics (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995 ); and Peter Jackson , 71;e Exten.ded Voice: lwtmtces of Myth i11 the Iudo-Em·opem t Corpus (Uppsala University: Dept. of T heology, 1999). 2. O n de Benoist, sec Pierre-Andre Tagttieff, Sur In Noupel/e dmite: jnlom d'm1e analyse critique ( Paris: Descartes, 1994), csp. pp. 173- 80; Geoffi·cy H arris, '17te Dm·k Side ofEurope: The Extt·eme n ight Todny ( Edinburgh : Edinburg h University Press, 1990), pp. 85-88; Thomas Sheehan, "Mytl1 and Violence: The Fascism of]ulius Evola and Alain de Benoist," Social ResearciJ48 (1981 ): 45-73; Alain Schnapp and Jespcr Svenbro, "Du Nazisme ii «Nouvelle Ecole»: Rcpcrcs sur Ia prctendue Nouvelle droite," QJ1ademi di storin 6 ( 1980): 107- 20. In de Benoist's collected writings, V11 de dr·oite: Amhologie critique des idees contemporni11es (Paris: Copcrnic, 1977 ), alongside pieces on sociobiology, genetics, race, and intelligence, one fi nds such articles as "Le Monde des Indo-Europcens," pp. 32- 37, "Carthage contre Rome," pp. 53- 55, "La Civilisation Ccltique," pp. 56- 61, and "Structures de Ia mythologic norclique," pp. 65 - 67. 3. O n Haudry, sec the scathi ng discussion of Bernard Sergent, " Pcnscr- et mal pcnscrles indo-europccns," A 1mnles, economies, socictes, ci11ilisntiM1S 3 7 ( I 982 ): 669-81; and Anne Marie D uranto n-Crabol, Visages de ln NouJJelle d1·oite (Paris: Presses de Ia fondation natio nalc des sciences pulitiques, 1988), pp. 201- 2 and 230 - 31. Sec also H audry's nvn11t pmpos to tl1c volume he co-edited with Bernard Demotz, ReJJoltttion COIItrC rcJJolution: 1i·adition ct mod&l'llite- Actes dn Colloque, Lyon, 1989 (Paris: Les editio ns du Portc-G laivc, 1990), pp. 9 - 11. On the North Pole as the Aryan homeland, Jean Haud ry, "L' O rigine des indo-europcens," Nouvellcecole 42 (July 1985): 123- 28, Les Indo-cm·opeens (Paris: Gallimard, 1981), pp. 11224; and, more broadly, Joscelyn Godwin , A1·ktos: 71;e Polnr Myth i11 Science, Symbolism, n11d Nnzi Sm·vivnl (Grand Rapids, M I: Phanes Press, 1993). 4. Le Monde (8 Oct. 1998), p. 38. I am grateful to Jcspcr Svcnbro for additional information clarifying the actions taken by M. Allard (personal communication, 9 Nov. 1998). 5. On the Northern League, founded in 1959, sec "Northern League," in Patterns of Prejudice 1 (July- Aug. 1967): 21 ; Martin van Amcrongen, " De Activitcitcn van 'The Northern League,' " V1·ij Netfe1'1n11d, 17 June 1967; and Kurt Tauber, Beyoud Eagle nud Swa-stika: Germnu Nationalism since 1945 (Middletown , CT: Wesleyan University Press, 1967 ), pp. I I 05- 6. T he last of these quotes from the league's statement of"aims and principles" : "Her·edity: The laws of biological in heritance appl)• to human beings as well as to the animal and plant kingdoms. North Ettropenn Kimhip: The Keltic, Teutonic, Scandinavian, and Slav peoples of North European descent arc the present day representatives of the great Indo-European fumily- the creators of the classic civilizations of antiquity as well as of the benefits of modern techno logy. Huma11 Progress: Furtl1er hu man progress can only be sustained if the biological heritage is preserved and a cultural decline must inevitably follow any

some later disLributcd by The T hunderbolt Inc., an organ of the American Nazi party). Most recent is his ltnce, /ntelligettce 1111d Bins in Acndemc, with an introduction by H ans Eyscnck (Washington, DC: Scott-Townsend, 1991 ), a book Stefan Kii hl calls "the most comprehensive defense of scientific racism in tl1e U nited States since 1945." The Nnzi Cmmection: Eugenics, Ame1·icn~1 Racism, n11d Germn11 Nntiounl Socialism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994 ), p. 3. Pearson's racist views and his connections to both the old and new right have been discussed in many sources. In addition to the works cited inn. 4 above, sec Schnapp and Svenbro, "Du Nazisme ," pp. 111- 13; Kiihl, pp. 3- 9; Charles L:mc, "The Tainted Sources of'Thc Rell Curve,' " New York Re11iew of Rooks 4 1 ( I December 1994): 14- 19; and Michael Shermer, Why People Believe Weird '/7;ings: Pseudoscicnce, Superstition, nnd Other Coufmiom of Om· Time (New York: W. H. Freeman, 1997), pp. 242 - 46. 9. Pearson, Rnce n11d Civilization, title p. On GUnther, sec above, pp. 7 5 and 244 n. 104. 10. Hans F. K. GUnther, The Religious Attitudes of the ludo-Europcnlu, trans. Vivian Bird, in collabomtion with Roger Pearson (London: Clair Press, 1967). l am also inclined to believe that Pearson was pseudonymously responsible for the appearance of another work of Glinther's in u·:mslation, The Rncinl Elements of Europeau History, condensed, rev., and abr. b)• Edward Langford (London: Nortl1ern World journals, n.d.). ll. Pearson, Euge~~ics n11d R nce, p . 26. 12. Cited in Harris, TheDm·kSideofEtlrope, p. 51. 13. Shermer, Why People Believe, p. 243. On racism in Pearson's work and that of the Pioneer Fund, sec further pp. 242 - 46; and Charles Lane, "The Tainted Sources of 'The Bell Curve,'" New Yo1·k RcJiiew of Books 4 1 (1 December 1994): 14 - 19. 14. For denunciations of this publicatio n before Pearson assumed responsibility for it, sec G. Ainsworth H arrison , "The Mankind Quarterly," Mnu (September 196 1): 163; and Juan Comas, "'Scientific' Racism Again?" Currmt Amhropology 2 (196 I ): 303-40. 15. Lane, "The Tainted Sources of ' Thc Bell Curve,'" a propos of Richard Hcrrnstein and Charles Murray, 71;e Bell Ct1r11e: Intelligence nud Class Stt·ucture i11 American Life (New York: Free Press, 1994 ). 16. On relations between de Benoist a nd Dumczil, sec Maurice O lender, "Georges Dumczil et les usages «politiqucs» de Ia prchistoirc indo-curopcennc," in Roger-Pol Droit, cd., Lcs G1·ecs, les /{omniiiS, et notts: L'A~~tiquite, est-elle modeme? (Paris: Le Mondc, 1991 ), pp. 191- 228. Also relevant arc Tagttieft~ Sm·ln Nom•ellc dr·oite, pp. 173- 80; D idier Eribon, Faut-il b1·tllel' Dumezil? Mytbologie, science, et politiqtte (Paris: Flammarion, 1992), pp. 28388; and Sergent, "Pcnscr-et mal penscr- lcs indo-europcens," pp. 678 - 81. Most of these take pains to defend Dumczil himself and to depict him as badly served by those who would appropriate his views for their own purposes. Frequently, tl1cy emphasize the fact that although Dumczil permitted Alain de Benoist to include him on the comite de pati'OIInge of N01111C/le ecole, he immediately witlldrcw upon publication of the special issue ostensibly, but

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abusively, published in his honor ("Georges Dumczil ct lcs etudes indo-europecnnes," Nou· vclle ecole 21- 22 [Winter 1972 - 73]). Such a construction is possible, although de Benoist describes the afrair in dificrcnt terms, Nouvelle ecole 45 (February 1989), pp. 138-39. It is also word1 noting dut as late as 1978-six years after d1c supposed bn:ad1 - Dumczil granted a very fi·iendly interview to de Benoist: Jean Varenne and Alain de Benoist, "Georges Dumczil: L'Explorateur de nos origines," Le Figaro Dimanche, 29-30 April 1978, p. 19. Haudry studied with Dumezil and cited him in a fashion designed to invoke his prestige for his own volume Les lttdo·europems, p. 3 n. l. This occasioned a howl of protest fi·om Bernard Sergent, "Penser-et mal penser-les indo-europcens," who had a stronger connection to d1e master. Betore publication of Sergent's review, Dumezil had arranged for Haudry to contri bute the article on "Indo-European religions" for Mircea Eliade's Ettcyclopedia ofReligion (New York: Macmillan, 1987), but thereafter he intervened once more and had d1c invitation withdrawn (Mircea Eliade, personal communication, c. 1984). 17. C. Scott Littleton, Tbe New Compamtive Mythology: An Antb1'0pological Assessment of the Theories of Georges Dmnizil (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1966; 3d ed., 1982), describes d1e reception of Dumezil's work in a fashion that borders on the hagiographic. Among d10se outside the field of Indo-European studies who have endorsed Dumczil's research, one notes Claude Levi-Strauss, Mircea Eliade, Marshall Sahlins, Rodney Needham, Jean-Pierre Vcrnant, Georges Duby, and Jacques LeGofi 18. Sec Georges Dumezil, Entl·etiem avec Didier Eribon (Paris: Gallimard, 1987), pp. 214-218; and Didier Eribon, Michel Foucault et son co11temporains (Paris: Fayard, 1994), pp. 35-37, 105-83, and passim. Od1ers on the left whose work has been influenced b)' Dumczil would include Roger Caillois, Georges Bataillc, Bernard Sergent, John Scheid , Daniel Dubuisson, and Dominique Briquel. 19. The best summary of Dumezil's work is his L'ldeologie tripartie des indo·mropeem (Brussels: Collection L1tomus, 1958). Best known in English is Littleton, The New Comparative Mythology, d1e flaws of which were discussed by Robert Goldman,]om·t1al of the Aweri· can Oriental Society 89 (1969): 205-13. Alternatives include Jaan Pulwcl, Compamtive Mythology (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987); and Woutcr W. Bclier, Decayed Gods: Origin and Development of Georges Dmnezil's "Ideologic Tripa,·tite" (Leiden: Brill, 1991). 20. The most important ofdlc early critiques include Karl Helm, "Mydwlogie auf a! ten und ncucn Wegcn," Beitriige ztll" Geschichte der dmtschm Sp1·ache tmd Literatur 77 (1955): 335-65; John Brough, "The Tripartite Ideology ofd1e Indo-Europeans: An Experiment in Method," Bulletin of tbe Scbool of Orimtal and African Studies 22 (1959): 69-85; Paul Thieme, Mitra and Aryaman (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1957), "The 'Aryan' Gods of the Mitanni Treaties," ]our11al oftbe American Orimtal Society 80 (1960): 30117; and Jan Gonda, "Dumezil's Tripartite Ideology: Some Critical Observations," ]mwn.al of Asia11 Stt~dies 34 (1974): 139-49. 21. See A.rnaldo Momigliano, "Premcsse per una discussionc su Georges Dumezil," Opus 2 ( 1983): 329- 42 (English trans. in G. W. Bowersock and T. J. Cornell, cds., A . D. Momigliano: Studies on Modem Scholarsbip [Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994], pp. 286 - 301 ), "Georges Dumezil and the Trifunctional Approach to Roman Civiliza· tion," History and Theory 23 (1984): 312-30; Carlo Ginzburg, "M.itologia Germanica e Nazismo: Su un vccchio libro di Georges Dumczil," Q;tademi sto1·ici 19 (1984): 857-82 (English trans., Clues, Myths, and the Historical Method [Baltimore: johns Hopkins University Press, 1989], pp. 126 -45); Bruce Lincoln, Deatb, War, and Sacrifice: Studies in Ideo/· ogy and Practice (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991 ), pp. 231-68; and Cristiano Grottanelli, Ideologic miti massacri: Indoeuropeidi Georges Dumezil (Palermo: Scllerio, 1993).

The brief remarks of Charles Malamoud, "Histoire des religions et comparatisme: La Question indo-emopcenne," R eJ111e de fhistoit·e des 1·eligio11S 208 (1991): 1 15-21, also deserve attention. Dumczil responded to Momigliano in UOnbli de l'homme et l>hon11eur des dieux (Paris: Gallimard, 1985), pp. 329-41, and to Ginzburg in "Science ct politique," Atmales, Economies, Societes, Civilisatiom 40 ( 1985): 985 - 89. D umezil's connections to Maurras were mediated through Pierre Gaxottc, a litclong fi·iend, to whom he dedicated his first book. On d1c crucial role Gaxottc played in right-wing letters and politics during the 1920s and 1930s, sec D iane Rubenstein, What's Left? The Ecole Nonnale Sttperimre Mtd the Right (Madison: University ofWisconsin Press, 1990 ), pp. 106-17, 130-36, and passim. 22. Didier Eribon, Fatlt·il bnUcr DtmJt!zil? Carlo Ginzburg responded to Eribon, " Dumczil et lcs myd1es nazis," Lc Monde des debats (September 1993), pp . 22-23, prompting a rejoinder, Le Monde des debats (October 1993), p. 13. Od1er defenses have been ofrered by Daniel Dubuisson, Mythologies dtt XXieme siede (Lille: Presses Universitaircs de Lille, 1993 ); C. Scott Littleton, D. A. Miller, Jaan Puhvel, and Udo Strutynski, "Georges Dumczil," Times Literary Supplement, 5 Dec. 1986, p. 1375 (witl1 my response, TLS, 19 Dec. 1986, p. 1425 ); Marco V. Garda Quintela, "Nouvelles contributions al'atraire Dumczil," Dialogues d'histoire Mtciemte 20 ( 1994): 21- 39; and Andrea Zambrini, "Georges Dumezil: Una polemica," R e· JJista di storia della storiografia IS ( 1994 ): 317-89 (with a response by Grottanclli, pp. 391404). 23. Eribon, Fattt·il brillet· Dmnezil? p. 298. 24. Thus also Grottandli, in his review ofEribon,Q;1ademidistoria 37 (1993): 181-89. 25. See, inter alia, Leon Poliakov, The A1-ymt Mytb, trans. Edmund Howard (New York: Basic Books, 1974); Hans-J lirgcn Lutzhoft, Der nordische Gedanke in Deutschland (Stuttgart: E. Klett, 1971 ); Klaus von See, Ba1·bar1 Germane, Arier (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1994 ); Volker Losemann, Natiottalsozialimms tmd Antike: Stttdim zttr E1ttwickltmg des Faches alte Gescbichte (Hamburg: Hoftinan and Campc, 1977); Ruth Romer, Sp,·achwissenschaft tmd Rn.ssmideologic itt Deutschland (Munich: Fink, 1985 ); George Mossc, Tol~~at·d the Final Solution: A History ofEuropeatt Racism (Madison: University ofWisconsin Press, 1985 ); )ost Hcrmand, Old Dreams of a New Reich: Volkish Utopias attd National Socialism (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992 ); Sheldon Pollock, "Deep Orientalism: Sanskrit and Power beyond d1e Raj," in 1'eter van der Veer and Carol Brcckinridge, eds., Orimtalis1n artd the Post-Colonial Pt·edicament (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1993 ), pp. 76133; Maurice Olender, The Lattgttages of Paradise: Race, Religiou, and Philology in the Nine· teenth Centm-y (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1992), "Europe, or How to Escape Babel," History mtd Theo1·y 33 (1994): 5-25; and James Dow and Hannjost Lixfeld , eds., 71Je Nazijicatiott of au Academic Disciplim: Folklore itt tbe Tbird Reicb (Bloomington: [ndiana University Press, 1994). Here, one may a.lso note the influence Dumczil's ideas had on Roger Caillois and others involved in the College de sociologic, as discussed by Denis Hollier, "January 21st," Stanford French Review 12 (1988): 31-48. 26. Otto Hofler, Kultische Geheimbii.ttde der Germatten (Frankfurt am Main: Dicsterweg, 1934 }, Das gen1tanische Konimtitiitspt·oblem (Hamburg: Hanseatische Verlag, 1937). On Hofler, his ideas, and associates, sec Allan Lund, Germanmideologie im Natioltalsozialismus (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1995 ), pp. 54-56; Esther Gajek, "Gcrmancnkundc und Nationalsozialismus-Zur Vcrflcchtung von Wissenschaft und Politik am Beispiel Otto Hbflers," in Walter Schmitz, ed., KonserJJative Revolution (Tlibingen: Philologica, forthcoming); and von See, Barbm; Gennane, At·iet; pp. 319-342, Kontinuitiitstheorie tmd Sakraltbeorie in der Germancrifm·sclmng: Antwot"t a1t Otto Hofler ( Frankfurt am Main: Athenaeum, 1972); and Olaf Bockhorn , " The Battle for d1c 'Ostmat·k:' Nazi Folklore in Austria," in Dow and Lixfcld, Naziji.cation ofan Academic Discipline, pp. 135- 55. Hofler's SS involvement is dis-

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Notes to Pages 125-126 cussed in Helmut H ciber, Wnlte1· Fm11k 11111i seiu Reicbsimtitttt flir Gcscbicbtc des tiCIIW Deutscblnt1ds (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1966), pp. 551 - 53, and passim; and Michael Kater, Dns (CAimeuerbe" der SS 1935-1945: Ei11 Beitmg zur Kultm·politik des Drittc11 Reicher (Stuttgart: Deutsche Verlags-Anstalt, 1974), pp. 83, 138, 307, and 343. In postwar writings like his Vet·wnudlzmgskulte, Volkssngeu, uud Mythm (Vienna: H . Bohlau, 1973), Hofler remained unrepentant, yet Dumezil always cited his work whenever the question of Miinnerbiiude arose, and it was Hofler who arranged for the fi rst translation of Dumczil's work into German, appropriately enough choosing Hcuretmnlhem· duguerrier (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1969) for the honor. 27. Jan de Vries, Altgermnt~ische R eligiousgeschichtc, 2 vols. (Berlin: de Gruytcr, 193537; rev. cd., 1957), but cf. Die Welt der Germn11erJ (Leiden: Quelle and Meyer, 1934 ), and Onze Voorottders (The Hague: De Schouw, 1942). De Vries's other wartime writings show similar tendencies: De Germnnen (Haarlcm: Zoon, 1941 ), Die geistige Welt det· GcrmMten (H alle: Niemeyer, 1943), and De Godm det· Gemlll11C11 (Amsterdam: Hanner, 1944). On de Vries and his role in the Kultm11·knmer, sec L. de jong, Het Koni11krijk der NederlMtdm in de Tweede Wet·eldoor/og, 14vols. (The Hague: Staatsuitgeverij, 1969 -9 1), 4 : 389-9 1,5:260 64 and 327,6:449- 50, Lund, Gennnneuideologie im Nntiounlsozinlismus, pp. 50-51. On Dumczil's relation to de Vries, sec Udo Strutynski, introduction to Georges Dumczil , Goris oftbeAucieut Nortbmcn., cd. Einar Haugen ( Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973), pp. xxxiii-xxxv; Georges Dumczil, autl1or's prefuce in ibid., pp. xlv- xlvi, and Littleton, New Comparative Mythology, pp. 168-71. 28. On the relations between me two scholars, sec Entrcticm avec Didier E1·ibon, pp. 76 and 157-58; Littleton, New Comparative Mythology, pp. 156- 61. 29. P,·i Opp11sitiou: Kritisk Veckorevy ("Free Opposition: A Critical Weekly Review," tl1c first number of which appeared l3 Dec. 1936). Wikander is listed as a MedMbctm·e in early issues, but his name disappeared when the mastl1cad was simplified. H e contributed articles to tl1e 22 jan. 1937 and 5 Mar. 1937 issues. I am grateful to Stefan A.rvidsson for having discovered these materials and called tl1em to my attention. 30. Stig Wikander, D er Mische Miimm·btmd (Lund: C. W. K. Gleerup, 1938). 31. Many objections were raised when the dissertation was formally defended, and I earlier interpreted this as a sign of political outrage. U lf Drobin has pointed out to me, however, that these may simply have reflected complex personal relations and career rivalries at Uppsala in tl1e 1930s. H e has also made available to me a copy of the formal report on the dissertation , dated 28 May 1938, written primarily by Nyberg but reflecting strong diftcrenccs of opinion. The Iranian portion was approved cum laude, but the lndic portion was negatively evaluated by a Prof. Smitl1, who served as reader. As a result, Wikandcr was denied the right to serve as a docent in Sanskrit or Indo-Eu ropean li nguistics, a move that made it virtually impossible for him to earn a living as an academic in Sweden for some years thereafter. 32. Some ofWikander's correspondence is held in the archives of the Carolina Rcdcviva Library in Uppsala, and Stefun Arvidsson has been good enough to share pieces of it witl1 me. A letter from Hofler, dated 27 May 1937, reads as follows: "Has not the moment arrived when one can arrive at a history of Indo-Germanic social forms through a 'collaboration of expertises?' How did it happen mat tl1e indo-Germanic languages arc me most widely distributed in the world? In tl1e last analysis, it must be from the unique ability of the IndoGermans for processes of state-formation. I assume that given the constancy and continuity of the state-forming imtinct, one can also discover corresponding state-forming imtitutiom of the Indo-Germans." [Solltc nun nicht bald der Augcnblick kommen, woman durch eiJ1e "Kollaboration dcr Klinste" zu eincr Geschichtc der indogcrmanischen Gcmeinschaftsformcn kommen bnn ? Wic kommt cs, class idg. Sprachen die verbreitctsten dcr Erdc sind? Doch

262

Notes to Pages 126-128 letzlich von der cinzigartigcn staatcnbildcnden Kraft der Jndogermancn. lch vcrmutc, man wird iibcr ausser der Konstanz und Kontinuitat der staatenbildendcn lnstitlkte auch cine solche der staatenbildcndcn Institutionen dcr 1dg. fcststellen konnen .... ] 33. Wikandcr referred to Hofler's seminar by this ironic title in a letter to Nyberg tl1at is quoted in Sigrid Kahle, H. S. Nyberg: Eu J>etcmknpsmnm biogmfi (Stock.J10lm: Norstedts, 1991), p. 264. 34. Letter of Hofler to Wikander, 20 June 1938. Wikander's response tO Hofler's proposal apparently has not been preserved, and the project never came to fi·uition. However, his underlining of the passages in Hofler's letter that deal with financial arrangements suggest at least initial interest. 35. Eribon, Fntlt-il brfilet· Dmuezit? p. 290. 36. Ivan Strcnski, "Henri Hubert, Racial Science and Political Myth," in his Religion iu Relntiou: Method, Applicntiotl rmd Moral Location (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1993 ), pp. 180 -20 l. See also Marcel Fournier, Mnt·ce/ Mauss (Paris: Fayard, 1994 ), pp. 7ll-13. 37. Henri Hubert and Marcel Mauss, Sacrifice: Its Nntm·c and Fuu cti011, trans. W. D. Halls (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964 ). The original French text appeared in L'Auuee sociologiquc for 1898. That tl1cse two scholars- a Jew and a Catholic, who regarded themselves as jmuenux de tlmlllille-sct materials from ancient India and Israel parallel to each other is surely no accident, for in this fushio n they implicitly rcflJted a typical construction of the nincteenm century whereby Semites were associated witl1 ritual (and sterile ritualism), Aryans witl1 mytl10logy (and thus poetry, philosophy, and tl1e life of the imagination). 38. H enri Hubert, Les Celtes et l'e."pnmio11 celtique jmqu'it l'epoque de In TCne, Les Celtes depuis l'epoq11e de Ia 1e11e (Paris: Corbeil, 1932), and Les Germnius (Paris: Albin Michel, 1952). All three books were published postlmmously and were based on manuscripts and notes taken during his lectures ofl923-25. 39. For brief and guarded accounts of Dumczil's dealings with Hubert sec Dumczil E11t1·etiens nJ>ec Didier Et·ibon, pp. 47-52, and tl1c interview which appears i1~ Jacques Bon: net and Didier Pralon, cds., Georges Dm111izil: CniJiet·spour 1111 temps ( Paris: Centre Pompidou, 198 1 ), pp. 18- 19. One would very much like to have Hubert's side oftl1c story. 40. Eribon, Frmt-il lmUer Dumezil? pp. 119-44. 41. Ibid., p . 140: "Une chose est s(n·e: entre 1933 et 1935, Dumczil est rcsolument antinazi. II est protascistc ct antinazi." 42. Ibid., p. 189, with most specific reference to Dumczil's Mythes et dieux des Get·mnitiS (Paris: E. LeRoux, 1939): "Dumczil neutralise lc jugement politiquc qu'il porte sur les cvcncmcnts contemporains parcc qu'il ccrit un livre de science, ou it s'agit de comprcodre ct non de jugcr, d'cxpliquer et non de s'indigner. Tous les historiens de l'cpoque ne ccssent de proclamcr ccttc regie profcssionnelle." 43. Georges Duml:zil, Mitra- Vnnmn: Essni stlt" deux l"cJn·esmtntions indo-europeem1es de lnsouvernittete (Paris: Presses univcrsitaircs de France, 1940), pp. 111-28; 2d cd. (Paris: Gallimard, 1948), pp. 133 -47. The appearance of Mitrn-Vnnmn in an English translation by Derek Cottman (New York: Zone Books, 1988) prompted an insightful review by Ron Indcn in the Joumnl ofAsian Studies (Aug. 1990): 671-74. The differences between these editions arc inconsequential for my purposes, and in the discussion that follows I will quote from the second French edition. 44. Most pre-Dumezil interpretations arc based on the pioneering work of Jacob Grimm, Deutsche Mythologic, 4 vols. (Gottingen: Dieterich, 1835), l: 131-34; and Karl M lillenhoft~ Dwtsche Altet·tmnsktmde, 5 vols. (Berlin: Weidmann, 1887-1900), 4:5 19-28. The longest sustained discussions arc tl10sc of Rudolf Much, " Der gennanischc Himmelsgott," in

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Notes to Pages 128- 129

Notes to Pages 129-130

F. Detter ct al., eds., Ablmndbmgm z m ·gemumischm Philologie: Festgabc jii1· Ricbard H ei1tzel (H alle: Max N iemeyer, 1898), pp. 189- 278; and Wolfgang Krause, "Ziu," NacbriciJtm tier Giitti11gm GeseltscJmft de1· Wissenschaften ( 1940): 155 - 72. See also Paul Herrmann, Nordische MytiJologie (Leipzig: Wilhelm Engelmann, 1903), pp. 235- 42; Richard M. Meyer, Get·mrmische Mythologie (Leipzig: Quelle and Meyer, 1910), pp. 178-89; ]. von Negelcin , Gcmtanische Mythologie (Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1912), pp. 57- 58; Alexander H aggerty Krappe, Etudes de mythologie ct de fo/kloregemumiques (Paris: E. LeRoux, 1928), pp. 11-27; Walter Baetkc, Art tt11d Glr~ttbe tier Gemmnen (Hamburg: Hanseatische Verlag, 1934), p. 34; Carl Clemen, Altgerma11ische R eligiomgeschichte (Bonn: Ludwig Ri:ihrsch cid, 1934 ), pp. 4850; Jan de Vries, Altget'ltlanische Religiottsgeschichte, 1st cd. , 2:283-88; Alois Closs, "Neue Problemstcllungen in der german ischen Religionsgcschichte," Allthropos 29 ( I 934 ): 47796, csp. 485-89, " Die Religion des Semnoncnstammes," in Wilhelm Koppers, ed ., Die lndogermanm-tmd Germatmifrage (Salzbmg: Pustet, 1936 ), pp. 549 - 674;]. H . Schleuder, Gennanische Mythologie (Leipzig: Stubcnrauch, 1937), pp. 80 - 87; H ermann Glin tcrt, Altgermattisclm· G/aube 11ach Wesm tmd Gmndlage (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1937), pp. 50- 52; Martin Ninck, Giitter tmd Jmseitsglaubm det· Germa11m (Jena: Eugcn Diederichs Verlag, 1937), pp. 134-38; and Friedrich van dcr Leycn, Die Giitter tier Germa11e11 (Munich: C. H. Beck, 1938 ), pp. 67, 86, 198. Some authors used the etymological connections between Tyr (< Common Germanic *Teiwaz < Proto-Indo-European* D eiwo-s), Vedic Dyaus, Greek Zetts, etc., to argue that he was originally a sky god, but they agree tl1e surviving sources depict him as a god of war. 45 . Snorri Srurluson, Gylfagimlill.g 25: diarfuztr ok bezt hugaor. 46. Snorri Stmluson, Skaldskaparmal9: vigaguo. 47. E.g., Tacitus, Germatlia 9 . The Roman equation is evident in m e names to r days of the week: Tys-dagr ("Tyr's day," English Tuesday) = dies Mat·tis (Mars' day, French mat·di, rtalian mm·tedi). 48. Sigrdt'ifmllal (a poem of m e Eldet· Edda ), v. 6:

49 . Gylfagintlillg 25: "sa er cnn ass er Tyr heitir; hann cr diarfaztr ok bczt hugaor, ok hann ra:llr miQk sigri i orrostum. A hann er gott at hcita hrcystimQmlum. !Jar cr oriltak at sa er cyhraustr er um fram cr ailra mc11n ok ekki sctz fi rir. Hann var vitr sva at pat cr made at sa cr cyspakr cr vitr cr. j)at er citt mark um diarfleik hans, !Ja er a:sir lokkuou Fcnrisulf til !Jess at lcggia fiQrturin n a hann, Gleipni , pa truili hann j)eim cigi at j)eir myndu leysa hann, fyrr en j)cir IQgou honum at vcoi hQnd Tys i munn ulfsins. En j):l cr a:sir vildu eigi lcysa hann, j)a beir hann hQndina af !Jar er nu heitir (alflior, ok cr han n einhcndr ok ekki kallaor sa:ttir manna." 50. In " Mytl1es romains," R eame de Pfll'is (Dec. 1951 ): 105-15, Dumezilminimizcd the importance of the Indic and Irish materials, and he abandoned m e lndic comparisons altogctllcr in "La Transposition des dieux souverains mineurs en heros dans le Ma!Jiibhiirata," Indo Iranian Jor~rnal 3 (1959): 1- 16. In later works he maintained mat counterparts to tl1e one-armed figure could be fo und elsewhere, but nowhere outside Rome and Scandinavia was the one-eyed magical sovereign to be found, still less the couple as an ensemble. For other discussions of these materials, wim occasional shifts in emphasis, interpretation , and cvidcn-

tiary base, sec Georges Dumczil, Loki (Paris: Maissoneuvc, 1948), pp. 9 1- 97, 2d ed. (Paris: Flam marion , 1986 ), pp. 69-74, L'H iritage indO-CIWOpem a Rome ( Paris: Gallimard, 1949), pp . 149-59, L es Diettx desgennaim (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1959), pp. 40 -77 (English trans., Gods of the Attcient Northmw, cd. Einar Haugen [Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973], pp. 26 -48), Mythe et epopee, 3 vols. (Paris: Gallimard , 1968- 73), 1 :423-28,3:267- 86, "'Le Borgne' et ' Lc Manchot ': The State of the Problem," in Gerald Larson, ed., Myth iubtdo-Etii'OPeatiAtttiquity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974 ), pp. 17- 28, Lcs Dieu.:o: sottveraills des l 11do-Europeem (Paris: Gallimard, 1977), pp. 198-200, L'Oubli de l'homme et l'l101meur des diettx (Paris: Gallimard, 1985), pp. 261- 65 . 51. R. I. Page, " Dumczil Revisited," Saga-Book ofthe Viking Society 20 (1978-81): 49 69 (to which Dumczil responded, L'Oubli de l'homme, pp. 259 -77); Bruce Lincoln, "Kings, Rebels, and tl1e Left Hand," in Death, Wa1; and Sacrifice, pp . 244 - 58; Klaus von Sec, Mythos tmd Theologie im skatldinavischm H ochmittelalter (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1988), pp. 56 68; and three articles by Cristiano Grottanclli: "The Enemy King Is a Monster: A Biblical Equation," Studistorico religiosi 3 (1979): 5-36, "Temi Dumeziliani fiaori dal mondo indoeuropca," Opus 2 (J 983 ): 365- 89, esp. 381- 84, and "Even to c modello nella storia antica: Due croi cesariani ," in Diego Poli , ed ., La wltttra in Cesare ( Rome: II Calamo, 1993), pp. 427- 44. 52. Note that it is the wolf mat proposes me agreement and tl1e gods who accept. Tyr is not involved in the negotiations. Rather, his role is defined by his courage and is limited to doing tltat which no one else dares: putting his hand in tl1c moutl1 o f the beast . Sec also Page, "Dumczil Revisited," pp. 52-58; and von Sec, Kotttinuitiitstheorie, pp. 14- 18. 53. Gyljagirmi11g 34: "Ulfinn fa:ddu resir hcima, ok haflli Tyr ciam diarfleik til at ganga at (alfnum ok gcfu honum mat. En cr guoin sa hvcrsu mikit hann 6x hvcrn dag, ok allar spar sQgou at hann myndi vera lagor til skaoa peim, !Ja fengu a:sir pat nio." 54. Gylfagitmitlg 34: "pa svarar u lfrin n: ,Sva litz mer a !Jcnna drcgil scm 0nga frrego ammak af hli6ta p6tt ck slita I sundr sva mi6tt band . En cf j)at er gQrt meo list ok va:l j)6tt pat syniz Litit, pa kemr pat band eigi a min a fa: tr."' Emphasis added. 55. For a fuller discussion , sec Bruce Lincoln, Myth, Cosmos, and Society: bldo-Etwopeatl Themes ofCt·eation attd Destruction (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1986). 56. I n addition to tl1c sources discussed below, tl1c same pattern is evident in Viiltmdarkvida and the story of Ji:irmunrekk's death (Hamdismtf./13, 24, and 28 , Skaldskaparmtf.l 42 , and Vii/sut~gasaga 44). 57. F;gitssaga ei11hm da 9.9-10 : "Sloan t6k hann II steina, ok vagu halfVa:tt baoir; par varu fusta r vio jarnhespur. I-Iann la:sti j)a:r at f6tu m Egli, ok sag3i, at harm sk)•ldi pctta draga." The text is available in Ake Lagcrholm, cd., Drei Lygisiigtlr (H alle: Niemeyer, 1927), vol. 17 in the Altnordische Saga-Bibliomek, pp. 43 -52. An English translation may be found in Hermann Palsson and Paul Edwards, trans., Gatttl·ek's Saga artd Other Medieval Tales (New York: New York University Press, 1968 ), pp. 103- 8 . 58. Egil.s Saga Einhmda 10 .6 : "Egill ... t6k cinn rvlangaoan fi cin, ok rckr i ba:oi augun :l jQtninum, sva pau liggja (at a kinnarbeinunum." 59. Egilssaga eiultmda ll .8: " T6k dvergrinn pa at smiOa honum citt svcro; en upp fra hjQitunum gcr3i hann fa I sva [Iangan], at upp r6k yfir Qlbogann, ok matti !Jar spcnna at, ok var Egli sva ha:gr at hQggva me3pvl svcroi, scm heil va:ri hQndin." 60. Note mat the giant fui ls by permitting himself to lose both eyes (a crippling catastrophe) ratl1er tlmn one (a productive sacrifice o n the order ofOoinn's). 61. For the wounds to Grendel, see Beowulf, lines 813-21; to Grendel 's mother, 156368; to tl1e dragon, 2697-270 5. Beowulf's assault on tl1c dragon's head- which fai ls because his hand is "too strong" (wa:s si'o hond to strong)-is described at 2677-8 7. 62 . These provocative incidents appear at lines 739 - 45 (Grendel cats rhc unnamed war-

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You shall know victory runes, if victory you want to have. Cut tl1em on the hilt of your sword, Also some on the blade's ridge and some on tl1e tip, And call Tyr twice by name. [Sigr(mar pu scalt kunna, ef pu vile sigr hafa , OC r[sta a hialti hiQrS, sumar :S. vettrimom, sumar a valbQstom, oc ncfna tysvar Ty.)

N otes to Pages 130- 134

Notes to Prrges 134-137

rior), 14 17-2 1 (Grendel's mother beheads IEschcre, the royal f:woritc), and 2214 - 26 (a servant violates the dragon's barrow and steals its precious cup). On IEschcre's status, see lines 1296 - 99 and 1306-9; note that no othe r character is called aldorpegn or designated as "dearest" (dcorestan) to the king. 63. The gifts won for defeating Grendel are described at lines 1020 -24, 1035-38, and 1045; Grendel's mother, 1709-57, 1866 -67, and 2 143- 65; the dragon, 2742 -7 L 64. Donald Ward, The Divitte TI11i11s: A u l 11do-E11mpcau Myth i11 Gemm1tic Tradition ( Be rkeley: University of California Press, 1968), p. l Oi n ; Udo Strurynski, introduction to Du mczil, Gods oftbe A ncimt North me11, p. xJi n. 6 5. Sec csp. Walthm ·iu.s, 1401 - 15. T he text, with comme ntary, may be found in Gernot Wieland , Wa ltlmt·ius (Bryn Mawr, 1>A: Bryn Mawr Latin Commentaries, 1989). 66. Alfi·ed Rosenberg, D cr Myth11sd es 20.]nhrhtmderts: Eiue Werttmg der seelisch-geistigen Gestn.l tcnknmpfc tmserer Zeit (Munich: H oheneichcn Verlag, 1935); Martin Ninck, Woda11 tmdgerm auische Schicksalsgla ttbe (Jena: Eugcn Diederich, 1935 ); C. G. Jung, " Wotan," originally published in 1936, now available in his Collected Works (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1964), 10:179-9 3. 67. Bloch's review appeared in Revue historiqttc 188 (1940 ): 274 -76. DumeziJmadc much of it when responding to Ginzburg . 68. Here Dumczil expanded upon a line of anai)'Sis that was introduced in the fi nal year of the first World War and was much more influential on French than on German scholars (for obvious reasons): Joseph Vendryes, "Lcs Correspondences de vocabulai re entre l'indoiranicn ct l'italo-ccltiquc," Memoit·es de Ia Societe de ling11istique de Pa1·is 20 ( 191 8 ): 265-86. 69. Dumczil, Mythcs et dieux des Germni m, pp. 153-54. Usc of tl1c Latin terminology rex and dux derives fi·o m and alludes to Tacin1s, Gennmtia, chap. 7. 70 . Dumczil, Mythcs et dieux des Germaim, p. 155. 7 1. Ibid., p. J 56. 72. Ibid., p. 36 . 73 . Tbid., pp. 37-42. His tortuo us argument may be summarized as follows: (1) The stories Saxo tells of Mithothyn and OUcrus ( 1.7 ~ n d 3.4, respectively) arc fundame ntally tl1e s~mc, (2) Ollcrus is a Latinizcd form o f Old Norse Ullr, (3) Ull r is very little attested among the continental Germans, (4 ) in the souili , U llr 's place is taken by *Tiw~z, (5) Tyr is the Old Norse form of *Tiw~z, (6 ) the Romans equated *11 waz with Mars, (7) a third-century inscription mentions a Mars T hincsus, (8) Thincsus refers to the Germanic thi11g, i.e., the popular assembly ~n d place of d isputation, (9 ) the name Mithot hyn means "the judge." Some of tl1csc points are unexceptionable (2 , 3, 5, 6 ), and some open to discussion ( 1, 8). Otl1ers arc unlikely ( 4, 9 ) or given disproportionate importance (7). 74 . Dumczil, Mitm- Vartma, pp. 152 - 59. T he phrases I have used in the above description come directly from tl1e text: The O dinic system is thus described as "1m «collfusionism e•, tm «m m11isme» pe1·m n.llc11te" (p . 1 57), "«/'econ omic mou vm ltc et totnlitn.ire» patromtec par *Wii6anaz" (p. 157), "lc regime commtmisn.nt . .. apte satisfail·e ct COittmir In ptebe" (p. 155), "mtc morale heroi"que et muicapitaliste" (157). The Mithothynic has: "propt·iete mo1·ce/ie, stn.ble, IJcreditait·e" (p. 157), "proprieti avec compematiott precise" (p. 157), " tme t•epartitioll nussi rigom ·cuse et aussi claire que posssible des biem" (p. 157), "«/'economic stable ct liberate• pnt~·otmee par *Tiwaz" (p . 156 ), " Ia p1·oprietc hereditaire, le bie~~ fa m ilial" (p. 158). In /,es Dieux souvemins des b td o-Europeens ( 1977), this system ofcontrasts has been reworked to place the opposition of private property and communism at its center (pp. 200- 202) . 75. Mitm- Vnrmm, pp. 157- 59 . H is statement about the Slavs is guarded but suggestively open-ended : "Or chez lcs Slaves, jusqu'cn plcinc cpoque historiquc, Ont existe des fo rmes de pro prictc collective avec redistribution pc riodiquc; Ia mytho logic de Ia souvcraincte

dcvait sc modeler sur ces pratiques, et il ct1t etc d'autant plus intcressant de Ia connattrc que lcs dcposiraircs humains de Ia souvcrainetc paraisscnt avoir etc, chez les Slaves, particuliercmcnt insrables. Mais tout ccla est irrcmediablemcnt perdu" (p. 159). 76. For a discussion of iliis com sc and its relation to Mit1-n.- Vnnmn, see DumcziJ, Ent~·cticm twcc Didier Et·ibon, pp. 67-68. 77. Earlier, not only Mithotl1yn played this role but also Ullr, whom Dumezil imaginatively associated with the emergence of parliamentary institutions among the "good Germans" of England and Scandinavia: "L'opposition de ccs deux conceptions du pouvoir souvcrain semble fond amen talc dans Ia vic des peuplcs gcrmaniqucs: si lcs socictcs scandinavcs ct anglosaxonncs ont, trcs tot, assure Ia suprematie d'UIIr, ct d u tiJiug, ct du parlcmcnt, et du droit precis, lcs Gcrmains continentaux, ont gardc Ia nostalgic du pur Wotan" (Mythes et dieux des Genua im, p. 42). 78. Sec the litcranu·e cited above, n . 44 . 79. Dumczil , Mitra-Vamna, pp. 149-50: "Quel genre de rapports *Tfwaz-Mars soutient-il avec Ia gucrre? D'abord des rapports qui nc sont pas cxdusifs, car il a d'autres activitcs: il est q ualifie sur plusicurs inscriptions de 17;incsus; il est done st'lrement, en depit d 'interminables discussions, protccteur du thi11g (allemand Diug), du peuplc assemble en corps pour juger et decider. Mais en dehors de ccttc imporrantc fonction civile, dans Ia gucrrc mcmc, *Tfwaz-Mars rcstc juristc .... II y a bien des manicrcs d'ctrc dicu de Ia gucrrc, et *Ti111nz en dcfinit une qui scrait trcs mal exprimcc par les etiquettes «dicu gucrricn>, «dicu combattant»; lc legitime patron du combat en tant que coups assencs, c'cst *17nmmz, le champion (cf. MytiJes et dicux des Germ aim, chap. VII), lc modele de Ia force physique, cclui q ue lcs Romains ont traduit en Hercules. *Tiwnz est autre chose: lc juriste de Ia gucrrc, ct en mcmc temps unc manicre de diplomate. . . ." Although this passage refers to "plusieurs inscriptions," there is o nly one, found at H ousesteads, Northumberland, dating from 22535 C. E. R. G. Collingwood and R. P. Wright, 1'11e R oma11ltJ.Jc1·iptiom of Britai11, vol. 1 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1965), no. 1593. Dumczil was criticized o n this poinr and corrected himself in later publications. 80 . Dumczil, Mit1·a-Varmlfl, pp. 166-67. 8 L. Also relevant is Dumczil's view of Freyr, about whom he rhapsodized : " 11 y a unc mystique, unc mytl10logic de Ia <<paix», d'unc paix incomparable, veritable age d'or, qui correspond st~rcmc n t a l'unc des plus sinceres aspir,ltions de I'ame gcrmaniquc" (Mythes et diettx des Gcnnai11s, p. 128) . 82. Note that H itler used a Franco-Soviet agreement of February 1936 as his pretext for repudiating tl1c Locarno Pact and rearming the Rhineland, claiming that in so doing he sought a new basis for peace in the face of French provocation. A focal audience for tlus preposterous argument was the French right, which had bitter!)' opposed the Soviet treaty. 83. Sec fi.trther C ristiano Grottanelli, "Ancora D umczil: Addenda c Corrigenda," QJeademidistOI·ia 39 (1994): 195-207, csp. pp . 198-200 ; and Hollier, " January 21st," pp. 334 1. Although some aspects of Hollier's discussion arc open to question, he rightly characterizes Dumezil's view of sovereignty as a theory of church-stare rapprochement, in tl1e manner of Mussolini's concordat witl1 the Vatican (p. 33). The same point is made, for very different purposes, by Alain de Benoist, L'Eclipsc du sacre (Paris: La Table Ronde, 1986 ), p. l 07. 84. Antagonism to Germany during this period was best exemplified by Maurras, and Gcrmanophilia by Robert Brasillach. Dumczil's close frie nd Pierre Gaxottc made the transition from the former position to the latter over the course of the 1930s, as did anotl1cr of their compatriots fro m the Ecole normale supcricure, Pierre Dricu Ia Rochelle. It is worm noting that in the year after the fall of France, Dricu published an excerpt fro m ]upitet; Mat·s, QJI.irimts (Paris: Galli mard, 1941 ), in which Dumczil extolled the long history of Indo-

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n

Notes to Pages 137- 141

Notes to Pnges 142 - 143

European conquests and called for d1e French and Germans to set aside their tl-atricidal quarrels, Georges Durnczil "L'Etude comparee des religions indo·europccnnes," Nouvelle Revue Fmnfaise 29 (1941 ), pp. 385-99. On D rieu's embrace of Nazism in d1is period and through d1is venue, see Lionel Richard, " Drieu Ia Rochel le et Ia Nouvelle R evue Franfaise des annces noires," Revue d'histoire de Ia deuxiemeguerre mo11diale 25 ( 1975 ): 67- 84. The incident has been discussed by Eribon, Fa1U·il bnUer Dumczil, pp. 218 -31; and Cristiano Grottanclli, " Dumezil's Myms in 1941," Zeitschrift fiil' Retigi011SIIIissemchaft 97 (1999): ford1coming. 85. Some, at least, are quite open about mis, like Jean Boisscl, who credits Gobincau - and not Dumczil-as the first to have described Indo-European trifi.mctiona.lism, Gobi1/eau, ['orient et I'Ira11 (Paris: Klincksieck, 1973), 1 : 166 n. 170, with reference to Durnczil's ]upiw; Mm·s, Qj1irimts and Gobineau's Histoi1·e des Perses (Paris: Henri Pion, 1869; repr. Tehran , 1976 , under the patronage of H er Imperial Highness Princess Ashraf Pahlavi).

Etcr11al R ctnm (Princeton , NJ: Princeton University Press, 1954; French original, 1949), T11e Sae~·cd a11d the Profmte (New York: Harcourr, Brace and World, 1959; German original, 1957), Myth and Reality (New York: Harper and Row, 1963 ), and A History of R eligiom /dens, 3 vols. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978- 85; French original, 1976 - 78).

fornia Press, 1986 ). 2. On Levi-Strauss, see Edmund Leach, ed., T11e Struct11ral Study of Myth m1d 1otemism (London: Tavistock, 1967), Claude Uvi-Sttmtss (New York: Viking Press, 1970); Howard Gardner, The Qjmt for Mind: Piaget, Uvi·Stmuss, a11d the Smtctlll'alist Movement (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1973); E. Hayes and Tanya H ayes, cds., Claude liJJi-Sttmw : The Anthropologist as H ero (Cambridge: MIT 1'ress, J 9 70 ); and Marcel Hcnafi~ Claude Uvi· Strams aud the Makiii!J of Structttml Amhropology (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1998). His most important writings on mym are d1e four volumes of his Mytholo· giques series- TIJC Raw a11d the Cooked (New York: Harper and Row, 1969; 1:rcnch original , 1964), From Honey to Ashes (New York: Harper and Row, 19 73; French original, 1966), T11e Origin ofTable MMme~·s (New York: Harper and Row, 1978; French original, 1968), and The Naked Matl (New York: H arper and Row, 1981; French original, 1971 )- and , more recently, The Jealom Potter (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988; French o riginal, 1985), and The Story of Ly11:oc (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995; French original, 1991). 3. The litcran rrc on Eliadc is sharply divided. For recent works that treat his oeuvre sympathetically, sec David Carrasco and Jane L·nv, eds., Waitiug for the Dawn: Mi1'Cea Eliade ill Perspective (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1985); David Cave, Mi1·cea Eliade's Vision for a New Htmmrlism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993); and BryanS. Rennie, Rectm · stmcting Eliade: Makiii!J Seme of Religion (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996). More critical works arc listed below in n. 13. His most important writings on myth include Pattems i11 Compamtivc Religio11 (London: Sheed and Ward, 1958; French original, Tmitc de t'histoire desreligiom, wid1 a preface by Georges Dumczil, 1949), The Myth of the

4. The importance of d1is point was underscored in a celebrated and revealing polemic exchange that John Brough initiated by asserting the system of three fim ctions could be found in stories from the Hebrew Bible, a claim Dumezil vigorously rejected. Sec John Brough, "The Tripartite Ideology of the Indo-Europeans: An Experiment in Mcd1od," Bulletill of the School of Oriental and Ajl'icau Stttdies 22 ( 1959): 68- 86; and Georges Dumczil , " L'Idcolo· gie tripartie des lndo-EuropC:cns et Ia Bible," Kmtylos 4 ( 1959): 97- 118. 5. Mytb ofthe Etemalltettml, pp. ix-x, 63 - 71, 102- 12, 147-59, and passim. 6. If one studies Eliade's citations of Durnczil, it is clear that Le P1·ob/eme des Cmtam·es was by far his favorite. I can also attest that in 1972 and 1973, Eliade taught seminars on Indo-European religions at d1c U niversity of Chicago which presented Dumczil's work as d1e crowning accomplishment in this field and a model for d1e history of religions in general. Still, at several points Eliade expressed regret over d1c moment his old friend discovered d1e sys· tem ofd1e three function s, for he mought d1at thereafter his work, which originally had been so bold and creative, became more sterile and repetitive. For a somewhat idealized picture of their relations, sec "Ces Religions dont no us hcritons: Un dialogue entre Mircea Eliade er Georges Dumczil," Lcs NotiJ!elles littemires, 2 Nov. 1978, pp. 17- 18. Sec also d1e articles col· leered in Dario Cosi, ed., Mi1·cea Eliade e Georges Dumezil (Padua: Sargon, 1994), most of which regrettably stress one or me other aud10r and touch only occasionally on the relations between d1em. 7. This diagram is meant only to suggest some of d1e most important lines of influence. Several important figures have been left out (Crcuzer, Schelling, e.g.), as well as some connections, like Levi-Strauss's surprising regard for Wagner, o n which sec Didier Eribon , CollVCI'satiom with Claude Ur>i·Stt·atm, trans. Paula Wissing (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991), p. I 76; and James Boon, "Levi-Strauss, Wagner, Romanticism: A Reading Back ... ," in George Stocking, ed., History of Anthropology, Vol. 6: Roma11tic MotivesEssays 011 A11thropological Se11sibility (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1989). 8. On the volkisch strain in Ju ng, sec Richard Noll, The ]mi!J Cult (PrincetOn, NJ : Princeton University Press, 1994), TIJC A1·ya11. Ch1·ist (New York: Random House, 1997). Ald10ugh Eliadc's relation to Jung is well known, less appreciated is his involvement with the trad i· tionalists and self-styled initiatory masters Rene Guenon and Julius Evola, on whom sec his discussion in Occultism, Witchcraft, a11d Cultural Fashions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1976), pp. 47- 68 , and]oumaliii: 1970-1978 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, I 989), pp. I 61- 63; Enrico Montanari, "Eiiadc c Gucnon," Studi e Materiali di Storia delle R cligio1Ji 61 (1995): 13 1- 49; Steven Wasscrstrom, " The Lives of Baron Evola," A lphabet City 4 - 5 (1995 ): 84- 89. [ have benefi ted from havi11g been able to read several as·yct· unpublished manuscripts mar deal with d1is topic, includi11g Steven Wasscrstrom, " Eliade and Evola"; Hugh Urban, "Religion for me Age of Darkness: 'Tantrism' in the Works and Lives, Mcd10ds and Paths of Lhc History of Religions"; and Cristiano Grottanelli, "Mircea Eliade, Carl Schmitt, Rene GuC:non, 1942," in Natale Spincto, ed ., b1terrompe1·e il quotidia11o: La costt·uzio11e del tempo nell' espn·imza religiom (Milan: Editorial Jaca, forthcoming) . 9. On Ca.illois and his role in d1c short-lived, but important, group, sec Denis Hollier, ed., T1Je College of Sociology, 1937-39 (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988 ). 10 . Sec Claude Levi-Strauss, IntrodttctiOil to the Work of Marcel Mauss, trans. Felicity Baker ( London: Routledge and Kcgan Paul, 1987); M. Merleau·Ponty, "De Mauss a Uvi· Strauss," in Sig11es (Paris: Gallimard , 1960), pp. 143-57; and Dumczil, Entretims Me& Didie1·

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Chapter 7 l. The literature on Dumczil is summarized in the preceding chapter. Among the most important of his mature works are Mitra· Varuna: Essai mr deux rep1·esmtations iudomropeemm d e Ia souverainete (Paris: Presses univcrsitaires de France, 1940; English trans., Mitm· Vam11a, Zone, 1988),]upiter, Mars, Qj1i1·imtS: Essai mr la co11ception ind o·europcemte de Ia societe et sm·les o1·igi11es de Rome (Paris: Gallimard, 1941 ), Les Dicttx des i11do·em·opec11S (Paris: Presses univcrsitai res de France, 1952), H em· et malhem· dug11en·ier: Aspects de Ia follctioll guerriere chez les b1do-Europeem (Paris: Presses univcrsitaires de France, 1956, English trans., The Destiny of the Warrio1· [University of Chicago Press, 1969 ]), L' Ideologie tt·ipm·tie des b1do·Em·opems (Brussels: Collection Latomus, J 958), Mythe et epopee, 3 vols. (Paris: Gal· limard, 1968 - 73). Parts of me last set are available as The Destiny of a King (Chicago: Uni· versity of Chicago Press, 1973), Camill11s: A Stttdy of Indo·Et~ropeMI Religio11 as History (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1980), The Stakes of the Warrior (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983), and The Plight of a Sorcere1· (Los Angeles: University of Cali-

Notes to Pages 144-145

Notes to Pages 146-147

Eribon, pp. 47- 50 . While Du mezil acknowledged (pp. 62 - 64) Mauss's in flue nce, he took it as largely having been mediated through Marcel Graner, whom Levi -Strauss also held in respect; and sec Eribon, Conversations witb Claude Uvi-Strnuss, p. 99. 1 1. Of particular interest is the attempt Trubetzkoy made on the eve of the Second World War to explain the correspondences among the Indo-European languages in a manner that avoids imagining an Ut·spmche, Urvolk, Urbeimat, Stammbau.m, o r processes of migration and conquest: "Gedanken i.iber das lndogermanenproblcm," Actn. Li11guistica 1 ( 1939): 81-89. 12. Discours de t·eceptioll de M. Georges Dumhil a l'Acatfcmic Frnllfaise et t·epo11sc de M. Claude Uvi-Stmuss (Paris: Gallimard, 1979), pp. 73 - 75. 13. For critical treatments ofEiiade, see Ivan Strcnski , Fom· Them·ies ofMyth i11 11vcntiethCen.t11ry Histm-y: Cnssit·er, Eliade, Le11i·Strnuss, a11d Maliuowski (Iowa City: University of Iowa Press, 1987), pp. 70 - I 59 , Religion £11 R e/atirm (Charlesto n: University of South Carolina 11 rcss, 1993), pp. 15- 4 0, 166 -79; Daniel Dubuisson Mythologies dtt XX' siecle (Lille: Presses universitaires de Lille, 1993), pp . 217-303; Edmund Leach, "Sermons by a Man on a Ladder," New York R&lli&lll of Books, 20 Oct . 1966, pp. 28 - 31; Jonathan z. Smith , Map Is Not Territ01-y: Stttdies ir~ the H istory of R eligions (Lcidcn: E. ). Brill, 1978 ), pp . 88-103, To Thke Place: Toward 'T1Jcory in R itual (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987), pp. I-23; Vittorio Lanternari, "Ripensando a Mircea Eliadc," La critica sociologica 79 ( I 986): 67-82; Norman Manea, "Happy Guilt: Mircca Eliade, Fascism, and the Unhappy Fate of Romania," Nelli Republic, 5 Aug. 199 1, pp. 27-36, "The Incompatibilities," Nelli Republic, 20 April 1998, pp. 32-37; Adriana Berger, "Mircea Eliadc: Romanian Fascism and the History of Religions in the United States," in Nancy H arrowitz, ed., Thiuted G1·enmess: Antisemitism a11d Cttltmnl Hemes (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1994), pp. 5 I -74; Russell McCutcheon, Mamifacturiug Religion: TI1c Discourse 011 Sui Gme~·is Religion aud the Politics of Nostalgia (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997); and Steven Wasscrstrom, Religio11 afm· R eligio11: Gershom Scholem, Mircea Eliade and Hm1-y Cm·bi11 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999). Attempts to balance a criLical readi ng with continued appreciation of Eiiadc's accomplishments have been oflcred by Phillipe Borgeaud, " Mythe et histoirc chez Mircca Eliade: Rcflexion d'un ecolicr en histoirc des religions," lmtitttt National Gcncvois: Ammles (1993): 33-48; and Ulrich Berner, "Mircca Eliade ( 19 07-1986)," in Axel Michaels, cd., ](lassike1• de1· RcligioJJswissenschaft vo11 Friedt·ich SciJiciermachet· bis Mil-cea Etiade (Mun ich: C. 1:-l. Beck, 1997), pp . 343-53. 14. Critical discussions of Dumezil include Grottanelli, Ideologic miti massae1·i; Arnalda Momigliano, " Introduction to a Discussion of Georges Dumczil," in Studies 011 Modem Scholarship (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994 ), pp. 286-301, "Georges Dumezil and the Trifunctional Approach to Roman Civilization," Histot·y a11d 'l1Jeo1·y 23 (1984): 312-30; Carlo Ginzburg, "Germanic Mythology and Nazism: Thoughts on an Old Book by Georges Dumezil," in Clues, Mytbs, a11d the H istorical Method (Baltimore: johns Hopkins University Press, 1989), pp. 126- 45; Bruce Lincoln, Deatb, War, rmd Sacl'ijice: Studies in Ideology a11d Practice (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, I 99 1), pp. 231- 68; and Patrizia Pinotti, "La «Repubblica» e Durnczil: Gcrarchia e sovranira," in Mario Vcgetti, trans., Platoue, La Repubblica Libl'o I V (Pavia: Dipar timcnto di fiolosofia dell' Universita di Pavia, 1997), pp. 257- 88. A spirited and highl)' informative defense may be found in Didier Eribon, Paut-il bnUCJ• Dttmhil? Mythologie, scimcc, et politique (Paris: Flam marion, 1992 ), and a set of appreciations has been collected by Edgar Polo mc, ed. , Intfo·E11ropcan Religion after Dumhil (Washington, DC: Institute for the Study of Man, 1996). An attempt to reject some of th e criticisms and mitigate orhers has also been oflc red by Guy Stroumsa, "Georges D umczil , Ancient German Myths, and Modern Demons," Zeitscln·ift.fiil· R cligiowwissewcbaft 97 (1999): forthcoming.

15. Sec, inter alia, Lucien Goldmann, "Strucrural ismc, marxismc, cxistentialisme," L'Homme et Ia societe 2 ( 1966 ): 1 05-24; Lionel Abel, "Sartre vs. Levi-Strauss," Commomvenl 84 ( 1966): 364-68; Maurice Godelicr, "Myth and History," New Left Re11icw 69 (1971): 93-112; Stanley Diamond, "The Myth of Structuralism," in l no Rossi, cd., 17Je Uncomcious i11 Culture: TIJe Stmcturnlism ofCiattde Uvi-Stmuss iu Perspecti11c (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1971 ), pp. 292-335; Henri Lefebvre, Au-de/a dtt structuralism& (Paris: Editions Anthropos, I 97 1); Fredric Jameson, The Priso11 Home of Lauguage: A Cl·itical Account of Stmcturnlism and Rmsia11 Fonnalism (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1972); Pierre Bourdieu, Outline of a Thcot•y of Practice (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977); and B. Scholre, "From Discourse to Silence: T he Structuralist Impnsse," in Stanley Diamond, ed., To wm·d a Mm-xist A11thropology (The Hague: Mouton , 1979), pp . 31-67. Some interesting critiques that remain within the structuralist paradigm arc also available in Terence Turner, "Narrative Structu re and Mythopoesis: A Critique and Reformulation of Structuralist Concepts of Myth, Nnrrativc and Poetics," A 1·etlmsa 10 (1977): 103-63; Roy Wagner, Lethal Spcecb: Dm-ibi Myth as Symbolic Obviation ( [thaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1978 ); and Mark Mosko, "The Canonic Formula of Myth and Nonmyth ," Americmz Ethnologist 18 ( 1991): 126-51. 16. For his reactions to 1968, see C01~versatiom with Claude U11i·Stmms, pp. 78-80 and 92. 17. Emile Durkhcim and Marcel Mauss, Primiti11e Clnssification, trans. Rodney Needham (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1963; French original, 190 1-2), pp. 77-78: "Every m)•thology is fi.mdamcntally a classification, but one which borrows its principles from religious beliefs, not from scientific ideas." [Chaquc mythologic est, au fond, une classification, mais qui cmprunte scs principles a des Cro)•ances rcligicuses, et non pas :\ des notions scicntifiques.] Marcel Mauss, Oemwes (Paris: Editions de Minuit, 1974 ), 2:79. 18. The kinds of works I have in mind arc Gramsci's l't•ison Notebooks (New York: Columbia University Press, 1992 - ); Roland Banhes, Mythologies (London: Jonathan Cape, 1972); and Pierre Bourdieu, Language atzd Symbolic Power (Cambridge, MA: H arvard University Press, 1991). 19. Sec Roman jakobson, 011 LaJlf}tmge, ed . Li nda Waugh nnd Monique MonviJieBurston (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1990 ), chnp. 8, "The Concept of Mark" (pp. 134-40). Particularly relevant is th e fo llowing observation: "The conception of binary opposition at nny level of the linguistic system ns a relation between a mark and the absence of this mark carries to its logical conclusio n the idea that a hierarchical order underlies the entire linguistic system in all its ramifications and manifestations" (p. 137). 20 . Emile D urkhcim, The ElcmmtMy Forms of the Religious Life, trans. Karen Fields (New York: Free Press, 1995; French original, 19 12), p. 149. 2 1. Cecile O'RahiUy, cd . and trans., Tai11 Bo Ctlalnge jl·om the Book of Lcinster (Dublin : Dublin Institute for Advanced Stud ies, 1967). 22. Triiu Bo Ctla/Jtge, lines 71-74: "Acht bol tarb sainemail ar b(mib Ailella ocus ba 16cg b6 do Mcidb atacomnaic ocus Findbcnnach ainm. Acht nlrbo miad leis beith for bantinchur, acht dochuaid co mboi for buaib in rig." 23. l bid., lines 4824-25: "Is and d recgais a fila] fo la for Mcidb." 24. Ibid., line 4847: "Rapa chomadas i.n 1:1 sa indiu ami ndiad mna." 25. This lasr operation - th e fictive reconciliation of tensions and contradictions unresolvablc in practice - may be observed in the Triin's last scene, where the two bulls duel until the Donn Cuailngc kills the Finnbenach Ai. Here, o nce again hierarchy is fi rmly establish ed, for the white bull is not the equal of the dark. Directly that is done, however, tl1e victorious bull dies, utrcrly confo unding tl1e categories of equity and hierarchy. Not only are the two

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Notes to Pages 148- 153

Notes to Pages 154- 157

unequal bulls now equal in death , but the originally unequal fortunes ofMedb and Ailill have become equal in quire unexpected fashion: even though Mcdb has not gained the bull she desired, Ailill has lost the champion that initially gave him his onc-buU advantage. 26. The capacity of representations to modifY social reality depends on two fuctors: (a) the gap between signifier and signified (which permits representations to resemble their referents only imperfectly in tl1eir initial moment}, and (b) the fuct tl1at audiences whose con sciousness is shaped (in part} by tl1eir consumption of representations arc also the people who constitute tl1e social order (which permits tl1em to reconstitute rca.lity in attempts to make it conform to the representations to which tl1ey have given credence) . 27. For earlier discussions oftl1is passage, seeR. Bett, "Immortality and the Nature of the Soul in the Phaedrus," Phronesis 3 1 (1986): 1- 26; Jacqueline de Romilly, "Les Conflits de l'ame dans le Phcdre de Platon," Wimer Stttdim 16 (1982}: 100-113; Walter Nicolai, "Der Mythos vom Si.indenfall dcr Seele (bci Empedokles und Platon )," Gymnasittm 88 (1981}: 512 - 24, " Du bon usage du rcglement," in J.-P. Vernant, ed., Divination et mtionalite (Paris: Seuil, 1974): 220- 48; A. Lebeck, "The Central Mytl1 of Plato's Phaedrus," Gt·eek, Roman, and Byzanti11e Stttdies 13 (1972): 267- 90; G.]. Vries, A Commmtary on the Phaedms (Amsterdam: Hakkert, 1969); E. Schmalzkriedt, "Ocr Umfahrtmytl1os des Phaidros," Det· atlspmcbtiche Unterricht 9 (1966): 60-99; D. D. McGibbon, "The Fall of the Soul in Plato's Phacdrus," Classical Q;tarterly 14 ( 1964): 56 - 63; and R. S. Bluck, "Phacdrus and Reincarnation," America11 ]ottmal ofPhilology 79 (1958): 156-64. 28. Thus, inter alia, R. Hackfortl1, Plato's Phaednu (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1952), pp. 3- 7; Luc Brisson, Platon, Phedt·e (Paris: Flammarion, 1989), pp. 33-34. Compare the description oftl1c hypcruranian in Phaedms 247c witl1 Repttblic 6: 514a- 517a, 7:517b, o r the analysis of the tripartite soul in Phaedms 246ab witl1 tl1at in Repttblic 4. Slobodan Dusanic, "The Political Context of Plato's Phacdrus," Rivista stm·ica dell' antichita 10 (1980): 1-26, attempts to situate tl1c dialogue in the events of366 - 65, but this seems a bit late, and tl1e arguments advanced are less tl1an compelling. Preferable is tl1c discussion of Michael Morgan, "Philosophical Madness and Political Rhetoric in the Phacdrus," in Platonic Piety: Philosophy and Ritual in Fmwth-CmturyAthem (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1990), pp. 158- 87. 29. Phaedms 246ab, with further development of the image at 253d- 254e. 30. Phaednu 246e-247a. 31. Phaedms 247be. 32. Phaedms 248ac: " Kal OUTO<; !!SV 9eiiiv Pioc;· ai. of: aA.A.at ~Juxal, ,, !!SV OQlCJTa 9e0 i:ltO!!EVl'] xal ebWCJ!!EVl'] ll1teQi;QeV eic; TOV e!;ro TOTIOV TTJV TOU TJVlOXOU XecpaA.~v, xal CJU!!1teQll']VEX91'] T~V 7teQlcpOQUV, 9oQuf30U1!EV1'] U7t0 TWV 't7t7t(I)V xal ~toytc; xaeoQiiicra Ttl OVTa· , Of: TOTS !!SV i';Qe, TOTS o' EOU, Pta~O!!EV(I)V of: Tiiiv't7t7t(I)VT0 !!SV etOeV, Ttl o' ou· ai.oe ol] af.A.at YAlXO!!eVat !!SV 07tacrat TOU avro S7tOVTat, aouvaTOUCJCll of: U7tOPQUXta1 !;U1!1teQlcpEQOVTat, TIOTOUCJCll aA.A.~A.ac; xal emPaA.A.oucrat, BTEQO 7tQO Ti;c; i:TEQO<; 7telQOO!!EV1'] yev€creat. e6Quf3oc; ouv xal O!!lAAa xal tOQclx; ECJXOTO<; yiyveTCll, ou ol] xaxi~ i]vtoxrov TIOA.A.al !!SV XOOAeUOVTal, 7tOAACll of: 7t0AAO 7tTeQO 9QOUOVTat .... flecr~toc; Te AOQOCJTelCl<; OOe, ~nc; &.v ~lUXTJ 9e0 !;uvoTiaooc; yevo!!EVl'] xaTion n Tiiiv aA.11eiiiv, !!EXQt Te -r~c; i:T€Qac; 7teQt6oou dvat aTI~!!Ova, x&.v Oel TOUTO 0UV'lTCll7t0letV, ael apA.ap;; dvat. OTC!V of: aouvaT~cracra emCJ7tEcr9atllll ton. xai n vt cruvTuxi~ XQl']CJO!!EVl'] A.~e11c; Te xal xaxiac; TIA1']cr9eicra PaQuven. PaQuv9e1cra of: 7tTeQOQQUllcrn Te xal e1tt n]v y~v TIEOTJ." 33. Phaedms 248de: "TOTe VO!!O<; TClUTl']V !!lJ cpUTeucrat eic; !!110e!!lOV e~QelOV cpumv Ti'\ 7tQWT11 yeVECJel, ana TlJV !!SV 7tAelCJTa i.ooucrav etc; yovl]v OVOQO<; YeVeCJO!!EVOU cptA.ocrocpou ~
1tE1!1tT11V 1-lClVTlXOV Piov r, n va TeA.ecrnxov ef;oucrav· SXT\1 7tOll']TlXO<; ~ TWV7teQt ~ll!!l']Ol v n c; &A.A.oc; OQ!!Ocret, &poo~ql O'l!!lOUQytxoc; ~ yeroQytx6c;, 6y156n cro
272

273

ev

Olcrt OS eQOEcpova 7tOlVtlV 7tOACllOU 7tEV9eO<; Mf;eTCll, ec; TOV U1tEQ9ev aA.tov XelV(I)V&vaT(Jl ETe.i OVOlOOL \~uxac; 7tUAlV, EX Tiiv PacrtA.~ec; ayauoi XOl cr9EVE1 XQCll7tVOt crocpt~ Te !!EYtCJTOl avliQe<; aUf;ovT'· ec; Of: TOV A.omov XQOVOV ~QOe<; ayvot7tQO<; av8QW7tOOV xaA£ovTat. 42. On Empcdocles and his text entitled Katharmoi ("Purifications"), sec Ava Chitwood, "The Death of Empedocles," Americatl ]mtmal of Philology 107 ( 1986 ): 175-91 ; S. Panagiotou, "Empcdoclcs on H is Own Divinity," Mnemosyne 36 (1983): 276 -8 5; M. R. Wright, Empedocles: The Extatlt Fragmmts (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1981); and Zuntz, Persephone, pp. 179-274. 43. Fragment 31Bl15 .6 (Diels-Kranz): "TQL<; ... !!UQiac; cOQac;." 44. Fragment 31Bll7. 45. Fragment 31B127. 46. Fragment 31B112: iii cpiA.ot, o'i ft eya acrTu xaTa !;aveou 'AxQayavToc; vaieT' av' OXQCl 7tOA.eoc;, ayaeiiiv !!eAeO~IlOVe<; EQYWV, f;ei vrov a too'tot Al!!EVe<;, xax6Tl']TO<; aTietQOt, XOlQET'· &yro o' U~llV eeoc; O!!PQOTO<;, OUXETl evl']TO<; TiroM::i:i!!at !!eTa Tiacrt Ten!!€voc;, ciicrTieQ eotxa, Tatviatc; Te 7teQlCJTe7tTO<; crTEcpecriv Te OaA.eiotc;. <7tacr t lih 7tOL<; liv i v 'txro!!at E<; acrTEO TT]M::9aov-ra,

Notes to Pages 157-160 avliQO<JLV ~Be yuvm~t. crept/;OJ.IUl' oi 1\' OJ.l' btOVTOL J.IUQlOl E~EQSOVTE~. 01tll 7tQO~ xeQiiO~ OTOQ7t6c;, oi. J.IEV ~l<XVTO<JUVS(l)V XEXQ'l~lSVOl, oi 1\' E7tl voucrrov 7tQVT0l(l)V E7tUSOVTO XAUELVeuqxea pa~LV, litlQOV 1\~ xaA.err\icrt7tE7t<XQ~tevot . 47. Fragment 31B146: ei~ Be Tel..o~ IJOVT6t~ TE xal U!Jvorr6A.ot xal. iqTQOl XOL1tQOJ.IOl avSQW1tOLOLV E7ttX80VlOLOl7tSAOVTat, Ev8e v avaPA.acrTOUOI Seol. HIJ ~LOt cpSQlOTOL.

48. Diogcncs Lacrtius, 8.63, who cites Aristo tle as his source for depicting Empcdocles as an ardent democrat. The tradition is hardly trustworthy but cannot be dismissed altogetller. For a discussion oftl1c political struggles in A.cragas during Empedocles' life and his possible role in them , see David Asheri, "A.grigento Libera: Rivolgimcnti intcrni c problemi costituzionali, ca. 471-466 A.c.," Athenamm 68 ( 1990): 483 - 501. 49. Marcel Detienne, The Masters ofTmth i11 Anhaic Greece, trans. Jane t Lloyd (New York: Zone, 1996; Fre nch original, 1967). Poets and kings were already sing led out by H csiod, Theogotly 81-104 (sec also Odyssey 17.384-86). The stams of seers and healers in the epic is also exceedingly high, as seen in such figures as Cakhas, Tciresias, Mclampus, Machao n, et al., not to mention tl1c Sibyl and Pythia. Sec further Cristiano Grottanelli, "Healers and Saviors of the Eastern Mediterranean in Pre-Classical Times," in Ugo Bianchi, cd., Soteriology of the Oriental Cults in the Roma11 Empire (Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1982), pp. 649 70. 50. Cf. Iliad 5.837, 8.41 , 13.23, 16.148; Parmenidcs, Fragment 28Bl.1- 10, Empedocles, Fragment 31B3.5. Note also tl1e usc of a similar comparison between tl1e soul and a chariot in Kntha Upanisad 1.3.3- 9 . 51. On the leimii11 and alitheias pcdion of248b, cf. Odyssey 11.539 (asphodelos leimiin ); Empcdocles, Fragment 31B 12l (Ates . .. leimiina); R epublic 10:614e, 616b. Sec further Paul Courcelle, "La Plaine de verite (Piaton, Phcdrc 248b)," Commis-toi toi-memc 3 (1975): 655- 60. 52. On millennia! cycles, cf. Empcdocles Fragment 31Bll5.6 (tris mi11 myrias iims); H erodotus 2.123; Aesch ylus, Pt·omethcm Bound 94; and sec B. L. van dcr Waerdcn, "Das g rosse Jahr und die ewige Wiederkehr," H ermes 80 (1952): 129-55. 53. On tl1e thcsmos ... Admstcias 248c, cf. Pindar, Fragment 133 (Snell) (poinm> palaiozt pmtheos); Olympia 2.60 (logon ... at~agkai); Empedocles, Fragment 31Bll5.l (AtJagkcs khrima ). 54. On tl1c mythology of Mnemosyne and Lctl1e, cf. the "Orphic" tablets, such as those fo und at Petelia (Fragment 32a, Kern ); or the Oracle ofTrophonius, described by Pausanias 9.39. Sec furtl1er Bruce Linco ln, "Waters of Memory, Waters of Forgetli.Ilncss," in Death, War, and Sact·ifice, pp. 49-61 ; Jean-Pierre Vcrnant, "Lc Fleuve 'amcles' ct la 'mclctc thanata u,'" in Mythe et pmsce chez lesgrccs (Paris: Maspcro, 1965 ), pp. 79 - 94; and Karl Kcrcnyi, " Mncmosyne- Lcsmosyne: Uber die Quellcn ' Erinnerung' und 'Vcrgcsscnl1eit' in dcr g riechisc.hen Mytllologie," in Die Geburt der H elena (Zurich: Rhein Verlag, 1945), pp. 99-101.

Notes to Pages 160-161 4. See, inter alia, Dionysius Halicarnassus 4 .62.2-4; A.ulus Gcllius, Attic Nights 1. 19 . 5. Good editio ns of this text include Stephen Schroder, Plutarchs Schrift De Pythiae orawlis: Text, Ei11leittmg 1md Kommmta1· (Stuttgart: B. G. Teubner, 1990); Erncsro V.11giglio, Pltttarco, Gli omcoli della Pizia (Naples: M. D'A.uria, 1992); and Robert Flaceliere, Pltttat·qtte, Dialogue sm·lcs omc/es de la Pythie (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 196 2). The date I have cited is tl1at suggested by C. P. Jones, "Towards a Chrono logy of Plutarch's Works," ]ottmal ofRoma11 Studies 56 (1966): 61-74, esp. 65 and 72. O thers have argued for a date as late as 120 c.E., e.g., Yvonne Yernicrc, "La Thcorie de !'inspiration prophetique dans Jes Dialogues Pythiques de Plutarque," Kemos 3 ( 1990): 359-66, esp. 364. 6. On this traditio n, and tl1e reasons for rejecting its accuracy, sec Christiane Sourvinou Inwood, "Myth as History: The Previous Owners of tl1c Delphic Oracle," in Jan Bremmer, ed. , l11terprctatitms ofGt·eek Mythology (London: Routledge, 1988), pp. 215-41. On tl1e mytl1ology of Apollo's victory over the monstrous Python, sec Joseph Fontcmosc, Python: A Study of Delphic Myth and Its Origim (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1959). 7. De Pythiae orawlis 398c: "xa8tl;ecr8m T~v 7tQWT'lV !:tpuA.A.av f;x TOU ' EA.txiiivo~ rraQayevoiJSVllV urro Tiiiv Moucriiiv TQacpeicrav." In a parentl1etical aside, Plutarch notes an alternate traditio n tl1at makes Malia tl1e Sibyl's o riginal home, but he o bviously prefers an account that brings her to Delphi direct fi·o m tl1c gods. Cf. Pausanias 10.1 2 .1. 8 . Sarapion was an Attic poet of Stoic inclinatio ns, and a friend of Plutarch's, to judge from the fact that tl1e treatise De E apud Delphos is dedicated to him. According to De Pythiae Ommlis 402f, alone of Plutarch's contemporaries, Sarapion continued to write philosophical discourses in poetic fo rm, after the f.1shio n of Orpheus, Hesiod, Parmcnidcs, Empcdoclcs, and otl1crs. For tl1e relatively little tint is known o f him apart from these dialogues, see Robert Flacclicre, " Le Poetc stoi'cien Sarapion d'A.tl1cncs, ami de Plutarquc," R evue des &tudes grecques 64 (1951 ): 325-27. 9. De Pythiae omculis 398cd: "6 ~tf:v !:aQarrtrov EIJV~cr8t1 Tiiiv 6rriiiv, 6v ot~ UJ.1Vll<J6V EUL>T~V, ci>c; ouli' arro8a voucra AJl~El IJUVTtXij~, a/..1..' aun1 J.IEV EV T\i crel..~vn 7t€QlEI<Jl TO xaAOUJ.IEVOV <patv6~tevov yevOJ.ISV11 1tQ6crrorrov, T(\i 1\' aeQt 1:0 rrveu!Ja cruyxQa8f:v 6v cp~J.l<Xl~ ad cpOQ~OET<Xl xal. XAf)BOcrtv· EX 1\(; TOU OWJ.l<XTO~ J.1 6TaPaMvTO~ EV TTI Yii rr6a~ xal. UAl)~ avacpUOJ.ISVl]~. PocrxJ1creTat TUUTl]V LEQO 8QSIJIJUTQ, XQOU~ T6 1tQVT01iarra~ LOXOVTQ xal J.I OQcpa~ xal. 1tO l0T'lT<X~ E7tt TOOV crrrA
l. Petronius, Satyricon 48.8, quoted by Eliot as epigraph to "The Wasteland." See also Servius's commentary on Aeneid 6.321; and Ovid, Metam01·phoses 14.130 f[ 2. Pausanias 10.12.8. 3 . H. W. Parke, Sibyls and Sibylli11e PropiJCCy (London : Routledge, 1988), pp. 117 and 124 n. 30.

10. Grimnismtit 40. l have studied tl1ese mytl1s in Myth, Cosmos, and Society: bldoEuropeatl 17temes ofO·eatio1l Mid Destruction (Cambrid ge, MA.: Harvard University Press, 1986). Others who have worked on them include Jaan Puhvel, "Remus ct Frater," History of Religions 15 ( 1975): 146-57; Alfi·ed Ebensbauer, "Ursprungsglaube, Hcrrschcrgott und Mcnschcnopfcr: Bcobachtungen zum Semnonenkult (Gcrmania c. 39)," in M. Mayrhofer et al. , cds., A11tiquitates Indogennanicae: Gedmkschrift fiir Hermann Giintert (Innsbruck: Innsbruckcr Bcitragc z ur Sprachwissenschaft, 1974 ), pp. 233-49; Hoang-son H oang-syQuy, "Lc Mythc indicn de l'homme cosmique dans son contexte culture! et dans son evolution," Re1me de l'histoire des religiotJS 175 ( 1969): 133-54; Walter Burkert, "Caesar und Romulus-Quirinus," Historiall (1962): 356 -76; G. Bonfante, " Microcosmo e macrocosmo nel mito indocuropeo," Die Sprache 5 (1959) : 1-8; A.. W. Macdonald, "A. propos de Prajapati," ]ourrmt asiatique 240 ( 1953): 323 -28; Adam Frcnkian, "Puru~a-Gayomard -An ­ tllropos," R evue des etudes indo-mropeenncs 3 ( 1943): 118-31. T he landmark work remains H erman n Glintcrt, Derrwische Wcltkiinig tmd H eiland (Halle: Max Niemeyer, 1923 ). Beyond tl1e " Indo-European" context, one should take note of tl1c narratives about the creative dismemberment ofl
274

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Chapter 8

Notes to Pages 161- 164 11. Znd Spmm 3.50: "us pas pad im rosnTh zor i az tohm i gaw abar grift. us o mah bared. rosnih andar gaw bud be o mah yazd abcspard." [And then he took up the light-power of the ox's seed, and he bore it to the moon. There was light in the ox, which he entrusted to the Moon deity.] The text continues to describe how this seed- i.e., the animal's lite essence-was purified on the moon, then returned to earth, where all other animal species were created fi·om it. Text in Ph. Gignoux and A. Tafazzoli , eds., Anthologic de Ziirisprrr.m (Paris: Association pour l'avancement des etudes iraniennes, 1993). 12. Ibid., 3.43-44: "im ciyon gaw i £vagdad be widard az an ciyonTh cihr i urwarTg dast. 50 ud 7 sardag jorda 12 sardag urwar i bcsaz. az handam handam waxscd. hcnd . ... hanv unvar az handam i waxscd abzaycncd i an handam." Cf. G~·err.te t· Btmdrr.hi$11 13.0 - 4. 13. Crr.th Mrr.ige Ttmdh 33- 35; Lebor Grr.btila E1·e1m 7.31 0. 14. T he Irish myth goes on to tell how M-iach's sister, Ai rmed, tried to establish the science of healing herbs by classify ing all the herbs that came from his corpse but was thwarted in this attempt by the ever-jealo us Dian Cccht (Crr.th Mrr.ige Tt~rerih 35 ). In Iran, such knowledge was codified in a now-lost text, the Damdiid Nask, from which the Pahlavi sources cited above q uote at length. Conceivably, similar ideas may be perceived in the Ho meric formula that describes barley as "the marrow of men" (alphita . .. muelon rr.ndrii11, Odyssey 2.290 and 20.1 08). 15. On extispicy and hepatoscopy among the Greeks, Romans, and Etruscans, see Cicero, De divitmtione 1. 131, 2.28 - 37 and 42, as well as the discussions of A. Bouche-Leclercq, Histoire de lrr. divi11rr.tion dam l'a1ttiqttite (Paris: Ernest Leroux, 1882 ), 4: 61 -74; H. Hagen, Die physiologische tmd psychologische Bedettttmg der Leber i11 der Atttike; F. Lisarraguc, "Les Entrailles de Ia cite: Lectures de signes-propositions sur Ia hicroscopic," Hephrr.istos 1 (1979): 92 - 108; ]. M. Lawrence, Hepatoscopy and Extispicy ill Greco-Romatt and Err.rly Christim1 Texts; and L. B. van der Meer, The Bronze Liver ofPiacmzrr.: A1mlysis ofa Polytheistic Stmctttre (Amsterdam: J. C. Gicben, 1987). More generally o n divination, see Jean-Pierre Vernant, cd., Divi11atiou et rrr.tiotmlite (Paris: Editions du Scui l, 1974); Friedrich Pfeftc r, Studim zttr Ma11tik ill der Philosophic der Antike (Mcisenheim am Glan: Anton Hain, 1976 ); Raymo nd Bloch, La Divi11atiou drr.ns l'a11tiquite (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1984 ); Dario Sabbatucci, Diviuazio11e e cosmologie (M-ilan : II Saggiatore, 1989); and the three volumes of studies, "La Divination dans lc monde etrusco-italique," that were: published as suppls. nos. 52, 54, and 56 of Crr.esModmmm ( 1985 - 86 ). 16. T he verb in question is mmesthe. Schroder, p. 206, prefers the simple sense " to recall" but points to several passages in which the sense "to cite" seems indicated. 17. T hus, Clement of Alexandria, Stromrr.teis l .70. 3f, who mistakenly claims to be citing verses of Sara pion! 18. On Phlcgon's life and work, sec the discussion in Pauly-Wissowa, 20:261- 264. That Phlcgon was interested in and had access to Sibylline writings is evident from the fact that one of the very few extensive citations of a Sibylline oracle is found in his book on marvels. For an extensive discussion of this text, see Hermrum Diels, Sibylli11ischc Bliitter (Berlin: Georg Reimer, 1890 ). 19. A similar procedure was fo llowed by Pliny, Natttml History 7. I62 - 64. Cf. also the Peri mrr.krobiii11 attributed to Lucian. 20. The passage cited below in the text is pref.1ccd by a description of the Sibyl as having lived "a few years short of a thousand" (oligon apodeomrr. tiiu. khiliii11). Cf. Heraclitus, Fragment 92 (Diels-Kranz). 21. Felix Jacoby, Die Fmgmeute der griechischcn Historiker (Berlin : Weidmann, 1929), Fragment 257f37, p. 1188. a:IJ.a Tl 0~ TCCXVOOUQTOc; ere' QAAoTQlOt<Jl m)9eacrtV 9eacpa Ta cpotPa~ro, A.uaarolia llOlQCXV exouaa,

276

Notes to Pages 164-166 OlOTQOU lie a
5

10

15

20

22. Parke, Sibyls and Sibyllhte Prophecy, pp. 114 - 18. In particular, note the resemblance of this passage to the conclusion of the seventh Sibylli11e Oracle (7. 151-62). 23. ?"his contrast is made by Plato, Plmedrus 244cd, a passage which explicitly connects the manttc mode of prophecy practiced by tl1e Sibyl to tl1at of the Delphic Pytl1ia and contrasts the two to ornitl10mancy and similar techniques. Cicero also makes a classificatory distinction between "natural" and "artificial" forms of divination: those that involve divine inspiration and those that depend on rational techniques (De divi11atio11c 2.26 - 27; cf. 1.4, 12, 34, 109IO, 11 3, 127- 30, and 2.42). 24. The epic, e.g., oftcrs two examples of cledonomancy, in which Odysseus perceives Zeus's promise of success from words he overhears fi rst from tl1e suitors themselves (Odyssey 18.117) and then fi·om a servant woman (20.120). The latter scene is particularly complex, fo.r Ody~seus :sks Ze~ s to let someone give him a premonitory word (phemii). Zeus responds wtth a s1gn (scma) of thunder from a cloudless sky. H earing tl1is, a woman at t11e mill says it is an o men (temr) of the suitors' defeat, and O dysseus is grateful for th is kledo11 (18.95- 12 1). Sec further Jo hn Pcradotto, "Ciedonomancy in tl1e O resteia," A merica~~ Jottmal of Philology 90 ( 1969): 1- 2 1; and Cristiano Grottanelli, "Bambini c divinazio ne: 7. Clcdonomanzia con bambini," in Ottavia Niccoli, cd., Infatlzie ( Florence: Ponte aile grazic, 1993), pp. 52-57. I am grateful to Fritz Graffor aspects of this d iscussion. 25. Note that in the most fu mous instance of bird interpretation- that which determined the founding of Rome- it was vultures, i.e., sarcophagous birds, that Romulus ru1d Remus observed (Plutarch, R omttlm 7.1). 26. De ~ythiae ,orrr.culis 398c: "auT~ J.lEV ev Tji OEA.ftvn TCEQlElOl TO XCXAOUJ.lEVOV cpmv6~lEVOV yCVOJ.lEVl'} TCQOOOlTCOV." 27. On Plutarch's eschatology, its place within his religious thought, and his place within the Platonic tradition, sec Frederick E. Brenk, b t Mist Apparelled: Religiom Themes in Pitt· tMch's Momlirr. Mtd Lives (Leidcn: E. ]. Brill, 1977); Yvonne Vernicrc, Symboles et mythes dans Ia pmsec de Pltttrr.rqttc (Paris: Lcs Belles Lettres, 1977); and loan Culianu , " Inter ltmam tcrrasque ... I ncubazione, catalessi, cd estasi in Plutarco," in Giulia Piccaluga, ed., Peretmitas: Studi in OIIOI'C diAnge/o Bt·elich (Rome: Ateneo, 1980 ), pp. 149 - 72. 28. Sec Robert Flaceliere, "La Lune scion Plutarquc," in Metmwes d'histoi1·c rr.ncimne ct rf.>rr.rcJJeologie ojferts It Prr.ttl Collrr.rt (Lausanne: E. de Boccard, 1976), pp. 19 3-95· and Y. Vernicre, "La Lu ne, reservoir des ames," in Frans:ois Jouan, cd., Mort et flcondite ddm les

277

Notes to Pages 166-1 69

Notes to Pages 169-175

mythologies (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1986}, pp. 101- 8 . The most important primary source is Plutarch, De facie;,, orbe ltmae, esp. 942ef, 943a, 945cd; cf. De Pytbiae ornculis 397c, De defecw oraculum416de. 29. De Pythiae ornculis 404e: "·.C>V ... 9eov xero~.u:vov Tti n uelQ nQOc; axo~v. xa900c; ~:\.~~ xQi'jTOl oe:\.~vn rreoc; oljJ1v." Cf. De sera tmmitlis vindicta 566 be, De Pythiae orncttlis 400d and 404d; and sec further Giulja Sissa, " Lunar Pythia," in Gt·eek Virgi11ity (Cambridge, MA:

things mirthless · mouth, reaches over a thousand . •.unadorned • and un per fi.tmc d W·it 11 a ravmg years Wtth her, vo1ce, thanks to the god" ' ' ', , · (:!:inu!."-a f' o•c' J.IQlVOJ.IC'v(l) , OTOJ.IOTl xa9"HQQXMo.lTOV aye:>..a~Ta XQl axaHromaTa xal OJ1UQlOTO cp9eyyOJ.IEVI1 XlAl(JJV i:Tiiiv El;txvchal Tii cprovn OHl Tov 9eov.] 42. On the relation between the Pythia's virginity and her mantic speech, sec Sissa Greek Virgi11ity, pp. 7-70. '

H arvard University Press, 1990), pp. 25-32. 30. On the hicrarchizing dimension of taxonomic systems, sec Bruce Lincoln, Discourse atld the Coustruction of Society (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989}, pp. 131-41. 31. Plutarch served in this capacity from c. 90 c.B. until his death in 125. Sec further Guy Soury, " Piutarquc, prcu·c de Dclphes, !'inspiration prophctiq ue," Jtcvue des &tudes gt·eques 55 ( 1942): 50-69; Robert Flacelicre, "Piutarquc ct Ia Pythic," lteJitte des etttdes greques 56 ( 1943): 72-ll l, "Piutarque, apologiste de Delphcs," L'fl1jormatioll litterain 5 (1953 ): 97- 103; and M. L. Danicli, "Piutarco a Delli: Note sulla rcligiositil plutarchca," Nt~ovo Didaskalion 15 ( 1965 ): 5-23. 32. Plutarch describes the problems Delphi experienced during his lifetime at De Pythiae orawlis 397d, 402b, 407d, 408bc, and De defect~~ omettlomm 414b. H e proudly mentions the program of rebuilding at De Pythiac omculis 409a and takes some personal credit for this at 409bc. 33. T he earliest sources have only one, and multiple Sibyls arc first mentioned by Heraelides of Pontus, who names Erythrae, Marpessus, and Delphi. Varro's list often is often taken as canonic, but others note even more. Sec the discussion of Parke, Sibyls a11d Sibylli11e p,·oph-

ecy, pp. 23- 46. 34. "l:l~UAAO i) 'EQueeala E;~lroaev hrt6:\.lyov arrolieovTa TiiiV XlAl
p. 40:

ili MA<poL 9eearrovTec; &xrt~6:\.ou 'Arro:\.)..wvoc;, ~)..9ov &yoo XQ~aoooa 610c; v6ov aiy1oxow, ai>Toxaatyv~T(!l xexo:\.
39. Ibid. 40. Pausanias 10 . 12.2. 41. At a bare minimum , Plutarch knew that Apollo was responsible for the Sibyl's inspired voice, her d eep melancholy, and her thousand-year life , for these arc all thematizcd in the o ldest surviving text where she is mentioned, which he himself quotes at De Pythiae oracttlis 397a (= Dicls-Kranz, Fragme nt l2B92 ): "According to Heraclitus, the Sibyl, uttering

278

Chapter 9 I . Gyljngi1ming 23: "Hinn prioi ass er sa kallaor cr NiQror, hann byr a himnj par sem hcitir N6atun. Hann ra:or fir ir gQngu vindz ok stillir sia ok cld; a hann skat heita til sa:fara ok til vcioa ... . NiQOr a pa konu er Skao i hcitir, d6ttir piaza iQtuns. Skaoi viii hafa b(1stao p~n cr ~tt hafOi faoir hennar, pat cr a fi QIIum nQkkvorum, par scm hciti r prymhcimr. En N tQr6r vtll vera na: sa:. pau sa:ttuz a pat at pau skyldu vera .ix. nxu· I prymheimi en pa aorar .i x. at N6atunum. En er NiQr6r kom aptr til N6at(ma af fi allinu pa kvao hann petta: Leio crumk fi QII, varka ck lcngi
pa kvao Skaoi pctta: Sofu ek mattak sa;far beoium a fugls iarmi ftrir; sa mik vckr er af vioi kemr morgun lwcrian mar. pa f6r Skaoi upp a fial lit ok bygoi i prymhcimi , ok ferr hon miQk 5 sklou m ok meo boga ok skytr dyr. H on hcitir Qndurguo eoaQndurdis." Cf. Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danomm 1.33. 2. Orkt1cyingasaga 1 (Nordal ed., l.l-2.4): "Forniorr hcfir konungr ha:tit; hann red firir ~vi Iandi, .cr kaUat .er Finnland o k Kvcnland; pat liggr fi rir au stan hafsbotnn pann, er gengr ttl motz vtt Gandv1k; pat kollu H clsing iabotnn. Forniou· atti lli sync, hct a:inn Hlerr, er ver kollum -£gi, annar Logi, pride K.:1.ri; hann var fad ir Frosta, faudur Sna:rs hins gamla. Hans son het porri, hann atti II sync, het annarr N6r, en annarr G6r; dottir hans her Goi .porri var blotmadr mikill; hann hafde blot a hveriu are at midium vetri; pat kolludu pcir po rrabl6t; af pvi tok manadrinn ha:iti. pat var tidenda a:inn vctr at porrabloti, at Goi hvarfi brott, ok var hen nar la:ita farit, ok finnzst hon a:igi. Ok cr sa manadr lcid, lcr porri fa at bloti ok biota til pess cr pcir yrde vissir, hvar Goi va:ri nidr komin; ]:>at ko lludu pcir Goiblot. J£inskis urdu peir visi; um hana at hclldr. Ill vctrum sidarr streingdu pcir bra;dr he it, at pcir skylldu hennar leita· ok skipta sva lcitinne, at Norr skylldc leita um londinn, en G6rr skylldc lcita um utskcr ok e;iar, ok forr hann a skjpum." 3. G6r's deeds are recounted in Orkneyi11gamga 1 (Nordal, 2.3-13), N6r's in 1-2 (Nordal, 2.13-4.22). 4. Orkt1eyi11gasaga 2 (Nordal, 4.11 - 16): "Hrolfr hafdc numit a brott af Kvcnlandi Goi porradottur. Hann f6 r pcgar til motz vid Nor ok baud bonum til a:invigis; pcir borduzst la:ingi ok vard hvorgi sarr. Eptir ]:>at sa:ttuzst pcir, o k fck Norr systur Hrolfs, en Hrolfr fck Goi." 5. CJ_rkneyi11gasaga 2 (Nordal, 4.19 -22): " Red hann pvi riki medan hann lifde, en synir h~ns cpttr hann, ok skiptu pcir Iandi meo scr. Ok t6ku sva rikin at sma:kkask, scm konungarnJr t6ku at fjQ lgask, ok grcindusk sva i f)rlki."

279

Notes to Pages 176-178

Notes to Pages 178-181

6. T he standard edition is Wilhelm Ranisch, Die Grwtrekssnga iu z111ei Fnmmgcn (Berlin: Mayer and MOller, 1900). Earlier studies of this text include Lee Hollander, "The Gautland Cycle ofSagas," journal ofEnglish and Germanic Philology 11 (1912): 61-8 1,209- 17, " The Relative Age of the Gautrekssaga and tl1c Hr6lfssaga Gautrckssonar," Arkiv fm· Nordisk Filologi 25 ( 19 13 ): 120-34; Stig Wtkander, "Fran lndisk Djurfabcl till lslandsk Saga," M:tenskapssocicteten i Lrmd, Arsbok (1964): 89- 114; and E. Paul Durrcnbcrgcr, " Reciprocity in Gautrek's Saga," Nor·them Studies 19 (1982): 23 - 37. Recent translations include Robert Ncdoma, Gautr·cks snga kommgs: Die Saga von Konig Gnu.trek (Goppingcn: Kummerle, 1990); and Hermann Palsson and Paul Edwards, Gautt·ck's Saga a11d Otlm· Medieval Tales (London: University of London Press, 1968). Treatment of King Gautrck in Saxo Grammaticus (where he appears as Gotricus) and in Ltmdnamabok permit one to date him to the eighth century. For a variant account of m e dcalin!ls ofGautrek and Ref, sec Saxe 8.296 - 97. 7. Gaut:rck's Saga 1 (Ranisch , 1.10- 2 .9 ): "1 pann tima var vf6a bygt, par scm miklir sk6gar v6ru umlwcrfis, pvfa t margir mcnn ruddu mQrkina, par scm fjarla:g var almannabyg6, ok gjQr6u ser par alhysi sumir, pcir scm flyit hQffiu af almannavcg fyrir nQkkur sin ranglig tilta:ki; sumir fly6 u fyrir lj60a:sku, e(\a nQkkur refintyr, ok p6ttuzt p:i si6r spottadir c6a ha:ddir vcr6a, ef peir vreri fjarri annarm manna athl:ltri, ok liffiu sv6 ut allan sinn alldr, at peir fundu 0ngva adra mcnn en pa sem hja peim v6ru . peir hQffiu ok margir lei tat ser staOar langt fra almannaveg, ok k6mu pvf 0ngvir menn pa heim at srekja .... " 8. Ibid. ( R.1nisch 4.16-19): "Ei parfu pat at undm, pvlat ver hQfum alldri gcst att a a:fi v6rri, ok pcss get ck, at pl1sert b6nda cngi Qfl'l1sugestr." 9 . The text. makes explicit mention of tl1is silence at tl1c point where Gautrck enters the ho use ( Gautrek's Saga 1, Ranisch 3.15-22): "The king tl1ought to himself tl1at he was little prepared ro sleep outside, and it did not seem clear to him what his reception would be if he asked to be taken in, so he went boldly to tl1c door. A slave moved in front of the door and did not want to let him in. The king let him know tl1e odds and wem tluough tl1e door. T he king went into the sitting room, where there were four men and four women. There was no g reeting for King Gauti. So he sat down." [hugsar hann pat me/) ser, at hann var litt vi(\buinn tlti at liggja, en p6tti ci visar vidtQkur, ef hann bidi pcss cr bonum vreri innbodit; gcngr djarfliga at dyrunum. Hinn fcrr fyrir dyrnar ok viii hann ei i.nn 1:\ta. Konungr lxtr hann kenna aflsmunar ok gcngr 6 r dyrum pann cr fyrir st6d. Konungr gckk til stofu; par v6ru fyrir fj6rir karlar ok fj6rar konur; ckki var par hcilsat Gauta konungi; p6 sczt hann nidr.] 10. Ga11trck's Saga 2 ( Ranisch 7 .10-1 7): "pa cr Snou-a kom heim, sat f.1dir hcnnar yfir fe sinu ok mx lti: Me(\ oss hafa ordit bysn mikil, cr ko nungr sj:l hcfir komit ti l v6rra hybyla ok etit upp fyrir oss mikla cigu ok pat scm oss hcnti sizt at h1ta; m:i ck ci sja, at vcr megum hallda Qllu v6ru hyski f)•rir takfxdar sakir, ok pvi hefi ck saman borit alia mina cigu, ok xtla ek at skipta arfi me() ydr sonum minum, en ck a:tla mer ok konu minni ok prx li til Valhallan." 11. On tl1is motif, sec James Milroy, "The Story of IEtternisstapi in Gautrcks Saga," Saga Book oftiJe Viking Society 17 (1967/68): 206 -23. 12. Gautt·ek's Saga exists in two major recensions. One of these (manuscripts K, E, L, and M ), which R.1nisch considers to be older, contains t.wo major episodes: tl1at ofGauti and that of Ref. To these, the younger rcscension (manuscripts A, b, and C) adds a third: the episode ofVikarr and Starka6r, which is not crucial to tl1c present discussion. 13. Sec the discussion in Hollander, "The Gautland Cycle of Sagas," and in Ranisch, pp. xl- lii. 14. Grum·ek's Saga 6 (Ranisch 26.22-27.5 ): " pa cr hann var (mgr, lag(\izt hann I clldaskala, ok bcit hrfs ok bQrk af trjam; hann var fur6uliga mikill vcxti; ckki fa: r6i hann saur af scr, ok til einkis recti hann sfnar hcndr, sv6 at Qdrum vreri til gagns. FaOir hans var fj:\rorkumadr mikill, ok l!ka6i honum ilia 6 prifnadr sonar sins. Refr var6 fi·xgr mjQk at 0 ngum snotrlcik ne fl·ama, hclldr at pvi at hann gjQr(\i sik athlregi annarra sinna hrausn-a fra:nda, ok p6tti fQd ur hans hann 61ikligr ril nQkkurs fi-ama, scm Qdrum (mgum mvnnum var pa titt."

15. Ibid. 9 (Ranisch 36.22-37.1): " hann t.ckr ok uxann g66a, ok lcidir til str~ndar. Harm hrindr fram cinu skipi, ok retlar a land ." 16. Ibid. (Ranisch 37.2 1-38.3): "Jar! svara6i: Hcfir pu ci spurt, at ck pigg 0ngvar gjafir, l>Viat ck vil0ngum manni launa. Rcfr svaraOi: Spurt hefi ck sinku plna, at engi parftil fjar mQti at xtla, p6tt per sc gefit, en p6 vii ek attu piggir penna grip, ok m:l vera, attu gerir mer gagn I orOum pinum, hvcrr sem peninga laun vcroa. Jar! mxllti: piggja mun ck uxann vi6 pessi pin umma:li, ok gakk pl1 inn ok ver her fyrst I n6tt." 17. Ibid. (Ran isch 42.1-2): p6 cru ei mikil uxalaunin. Cf. the variants at Ranisch 40 .20 , 43. 16 - 17,44.8-9,48.26-28. 18. Earl Ncri gives this whetstone to Ref. At the surface level of the nan-ative, the stone is of interest precisely because of its worthlessness, the point being how so trivial an item can be compounded into a great fortune. Noting tl1at a whetstone figures as a royal emblem in the Su tton Hoc burial, however, several scholars have made the intriguing suggestion that this stone alread y prefigures tl1e wealtl1 and power Ref will gain as a result of Ncri's intervention. Thus, Jacquel ine Simpson, " The King's Whetstone," Antiquity 53 ( 1979): 96 - 100; and Stephen A. Mitchell, "The Whetstone as Symbol of Authority in O ld English and O ld Norse," Scaudiuavian Studies 57 (1985): 1- 3 1. 19. Gautrck's Sag a 9 (R.anisch 40.24 - 41.6): "Konungr spurdi, hvcrr pessi ma(\r var. Hann svaradi: Ek heiti Refi·, ok villda ek, at per pa:gio afmer gullbaug penna, ok lagoi a borOit f)•rir konunginn. Konungr lcit a, ok mxllti: petta er mikil gcrscmi, c(\a hvcrr gaf per? Rcfr svara6i: Gautrckrkonungr gafmer bauginn. Konungr ma:llti: I-Ivat gafi:u honum? Rcfr svamdi: Eitt Htit hcinarbryni. Konungr ma:llti: Mikit cr um Qrlcik Gautrcks konungs, cr hann gcfr gull vio grj6ti." 20. Ibid. (Ranisch 4 1.10 - 17): "Konungr let b(~a eitt skip, ok einn dag ba6 hann Ref ganga meO scr. Konungr ma:llti: Her cr citt skip, cr ck vii gcfa per me(\ Qllum pcim furmi, er per ma bczt hcnta, ok mQnnurnsv6 mQrgum scm pu parft; vii ek ei, attu sen lengr an narra furpcgi, at fum hvcrt er per Lfkar, ok cr pctta p6 Htit hja pvi, scm Gautrekr konungr launaOi per heinarbrynit." 2 1. Gar~tnk's Saga 10 (Ranisch 42.13 - 43.1 ): "N(1 byzt Ref!·, ok siglir til Danmerkr . Ha nn finnr Hr61fkonung, ok gcngr fyrir hann, ok fugnar honum . Konung spyrr hann, hvcrr hann vxri. Hann kvc6zt Rcfi· hcita. Konungr svam6i: Ertu kallailr Gjaf.1-Rcfi·? Hann svara6i: pcgit hcf ck gjafir at 111Qimum, ok p6 enn gcfit stundum . Refr mx llti: Rakka pessa en a )jtJu vii ek, hen-a, gcfa y(\r mc6 bunadi sfnum. Konungr ma:llti, ok lcit til: SHkt cru st61-ar gcrsimar, c6a hverr gaf per? Re fi· svamdi: Ella ko nungr. Hr61fi- konungr ma:llti : lwat gaft11 ho num? Rcfi· svamdi: Gullbaug. E6a hvcrr gaf per hann? Rcfr svara6i: Gautrekr konungr. E6a hvat gafi:u honum? Rcfr sva1-a6i: H einarbryni. H r6lfr ko nungr mxllti: Mikit cr um Qrlcik Gautreks ko· nungs, cr hann gctr gull vi(\ grj6ti." 22. Ibid. (Ranisch 43.5-8): "pa mrellti konungr: Laun hcfi ek hugat per, skip skalltu af mer piggja, sv6 scm af Englakonungi, skal pat vera me(\ hinum bczta farmi ok mQnnum ." 23. On patterns of t1-adc in tl1c Viking era and later, sec Erik Lonnrotl1, "Communications, vic cconomiquc ct modcles politiqucs des Vikings en Scandinavca," in I Normmmi c Ia lo~·o espmuione iu europa uell' alto mcdioevo (Spoleto: Centro Italiano di studi sull' alto mcdiocvo, 1969), pp. 101-15; Regis Boyer, "Les Vikings: Des gucrriers ou des commer~ants," in R. Boyer, ed.,Les Vikitzgsetlerwcivilisatio11 (The H ague: Mo uton, 1976), pp. 2 1140; Bruce Gelsinger, Icellllzdic Enterprise: Commerce fllld Ec01wmy in the Middle Ages (Columbia: University ofSoum Carolina Press, 1981 ); Ross Samson, cd., Social Appmaches to Vikiug St1tdies (Glasgow: Cruithnc Press, 1991 ), pp . 87- 133; and Birgit Sawyer and Peter Sawyer, Medieval Scmzdinm>ia (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1993), pp . 144-65. 24 . In thinking about tl1csc issues, I have found the following helpful : Marshall Sahlins, Stone Age Economics (New York: Aldinc, 1972 ); Jacques Lc Goff, Time, Wm·k, and Cttlttere i11 the Middle Ages (Chicago: University of C hicago Press, 198 0 ); Aaron Gurevich, Categ01·ies

280

281

Notes to Pages 181-184

Notes to Pages 184-188

ofMerlielllrl Cttlt111'e (London: Routledge and Kegan Pau1,1985), pp. 2 11-85, Historicn/Authropology ofthe Middle Ages (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992), pp. 177-89; Wil-

l. Greaw· Btmdabi!n 4A.l- 6 (TD Manuscript 46.3- 47.6: "cniz gowcd kii: ka gaw ckdad fuiz widard pad da~n clast obast. Gayomard pas an ka be widard pad hoy clast [ o bast]. Go~urun ciyon ruwan -i gaw-i ckdad az tan-i gaw bcron mih aycd pc~ gaw be estad. cand sad mard ka pad ck bar wang darcnd. o i Ohrmazd garzed kii-it: •radari'h-i dam-i pad ke be dastan ka zamig wizandag andar nibaycd urwar husk ab besad. kii heel an mard ke-t guft kii: dahom ta pahrez be gowcd. u ~ guft Olmnazd kii: wemiir he Gosurun az ani gan niig mcnog we marih ud ken i de wan abar blu·dan he. agar an mard andar en zaman fraz ~ayed dadan gannag menog en stahmagih nc bawcd hadfi·az raft Gosmun pad star payag garzcd hamcwenag fi·az ta mah piiyag ud garzcd hamcwcnag ta xwarscd payag hamcwcnag gar zed. usan pas frawahr i zardux~r be nimud ku: be dahom o gctig kc pallrez be gowcd. hunsand biid Gosurun ud padi'red kii dam be parwarom kii pad gospand abaz o getig dahisnih hamdiidcstiin biid." Text in Ervad Tahmuras Dinshaji Anklcsaria, cd ., Tl1e Btmdahilrt. Bei11g a Fn-csimile of the TD Matmscript No.2 (Bombay: British India Press, 1908). 2. Note also Yhma 29 (composed c. 1000 B.C.E.), Yrut 10.38, 10.84-87, 15.1, and the Ossetic story discussed by Georges Dumezil, "A propos de Ia plainte de l'ame du boeuf (Yasna 29)," Bulleti11 de l'Acadcmie I'Oyale de Belgique, Cln-sses des Lettres 5 1 (1965): 42-43. T he secondary literature is large and includes most prominently Herman Lommel, "Yasna 29: Die Klagc des R.indcs," Zeitschrift ftir lmiiOiogie tmd Iranistik 10 ( 1935): 96-115; J. C. Tavadia, b ido-lm11iatl Swdies (Santinikctan : Visva-Bharati, 1952), 2: 27-75; Marijan Mole, Culte, mythe et cosmologie dn-m l'Imtl Muim (Paris: Presses univcrsitaircs de France, 1963), pp. 193- 202; Georges Dumezil, Les Diettx souverni11S des i11do-europeem (Paris: Gallimard, 1977), pp. 127-31; Jacques Duchesne-Guillemin, "On the Complaint of the OxSoul ," ]oumal ofI11do-European Studies l (1973): 101- 4; Bruce Lincoln, "The Mytl1 of the 'Bovine's Lament,'" Journal of b1do·Etwopen-n Studies 3 ( 1975 ): 337- 62; and W. W. Malan dra, "The Brahman's Cow,'' fortl1coming in Studi e materiali di storia delle religiot1i. There is a school of thought which holds tl1at tl1c cattle in question are metaphoric only. For refuta tion oftl1is position, sec Helmut Humbach, "Zaratl1ustra und die R.indcrschlachtung," in Wot·t tmd Wit·klichkeit: Eugen Lttdwig Rn-pp zum 70. Gebttl'tstag (Mcisenhcim am Glan: 1977),

2: 17-29, "Ocr mctaphorischc Gebrauch von av.ga.u - 'Rind' unci die Jatakas," Mii11chcner Studicn wm Spmchwissenschn-ft 41 (1982): 103-17. 3. Dcnkn-1·ri 9.29. 1 (Sanjana): "zadan ud ozadan rcscnitan ud duzidan." 9.29.10 provides a separate discussion of tl1e ox's resentment at being eaten. A fitII transliteration and translation of this passage are available in Mole, Culte, mythe, et cosmologie, pp. 196-98. 4 . Ynmn- 29.1 b: "a ma aes~mo hazasca ramo (a)hisaya d~r~sca t~vi5c5." 5. The only other source in which I have found these features is Zad Spmm 2. 13- 14, which appears to be an abbreviation of the Btmdahihl account. 6. G1·enter B1mda1Jiln 6E.2-3, 7.4 -6, an d 1 3.4. 7 . Sec, e.g., G1·eater Btmdn-!Jifn 1A.4-21, 4.10-19,4.27- 28, 5.3, 6B-D. The six original creations arc listed in order in at least one Avestan text, Yhft 13.86. 8. Grentct· Btmdabih1 7.1-9 (TD MS. 71.12-73.4): "gowcd pad den kii: ka ganagmcnog andar dwarcd nc pad sal ud mah ud roz cc tez pad zaman be nazdist o 3 ck i en zamig dudigar o 3 2 ck i en zamig sidigar o en zamig hamag be mad . pas o urwar hast i Ohrmazd iin i awcsan kirb abar grift abar awesan starag payag burd ud fraz 0 staragan dad hast rosni'h awcsan stii ragan kc pad abaz 0 getig tabend. ciyon gowed kii: axtaran i ab-cihrag ud zami'gci'hrag ud urwar-cihrag hcnd. awesan ab-ci'hran ti~tar ud tarahag padewar ud pcsparwcz ud 6 sti\rag kc p:uwez xwanend. awcsan ab staragan. an i zami'g cihr haftoringiin ud meh mayan asman awe~an zamig +staragan. ani urwar ciJ1r abarig jud az awc§an. pas ganagmenog o gaw mad. gaw o nemroz arg pad dasn dast xufsed. nazdist an i dasn pay o amburd. ohrmazd an i gaw tan ud cwcnag abar grift 0 i mah abespard. ciyon hast en ro~ n gar mah abaz 0 gchan tabcd. ciyon gowed ku: mah i gospand tohmag kii cwcnag gawan gospandan pad mah payag csted. pas ka o gayomard mad. gayomard o nemroz ron hoy arg xufscd ud nazdist-iz ani hoy pay 0 amburd. o lumazd ani oy kirb grift. 0 xwar5ed abespard. ciyon hast en rosnih i xwarsed kc 6 gehan padi~ tabed. abar gaw owon biid ciyon miih ud gayomard owon biid ciyon xwarscd." 9. Sec Gun-ter Btwdahifn 2.1-19 and 3.7. Also helpful arc cosmologic and cosmogonic discussions in other Pahlavi texts, iJ1cludingZad Spram 1.31-33,2. 1- 12, Mi11iigi Xriid 7.912,44.7-11, and 49, D enkat·d 3.123, and At·dii Wit·iiz Niimn-g 12.5-14.20. 10. Se<: in particular, Yhit 12 .29-33, Si1·ozc 1.12.-13 and 2.12 - 13. The enigmatic and much-discussed Yhmn- 32.1 Oac may also be relevant if it is possible to sec in this verse Zarathustra's condemnation of an attempt to homologize cattle and tl1c sun, in violation of tl1e proper cosmological construct, whereby human : bovine :: sun : moon. That man destroys the doctrines who says the worst to sec The cow and the sun witl1 his eyes. y:i aci~t~m vacnal)hc aog~da [ hvo ma na srava mor~ndat g~m asibya hvar~cii.] l I. Although I have found no textual evidence to support tl1is, I am inclined to suspect that tendentious and pseudo-empirical confirmation was provided for this association by reading the crescent moon as the animal's horns. 12. Dcnkn-rd (Sanjana) 9 .29.3: " ud agar-im o gctig briheneh, an-im uz ·u~tani'h ha be dah kii am5rtar bavom •i an du5xwar dart." 13. Greater Btmdahihi4A.2 (TD MS. 46.8-11): "•radari'h-I dam-i pad ke be dahan ka zamig wizandag andar nibayed urwar hu~k ab bc~ad. kii hcd an mard ke-t guft kii: dallom ta pahrcz be gowed." 14. David Sick, "Cattle, Sacrifice, and the Sun : A Mythic Cycle in Greece, Iran , and I ndia," Ph.D. diss., University of Minnesota, Dept. of Classics (1996). The text in question is Odyssey 12.260- 402, on which sec also tl1c discussions of Pierre Vidai-Naquct, "Valeurs rcligicuses et mytl1iques de Ia terre ct du sacrifice dans l'Odysee," Atmales E.S.C. 25 (1970): 1278-97, csp. 1288 - 89; jean-Picrn: Vernant, " Manger aux pays du solei!," in J.-P. Vemant

282

283

liatn Jan Miller, "Gift, Sale, Payment, Raid: Case Studies in the Negotiation and Classification of Exchange in Medieval Iceland," Speculum 61 ( 1986 ): 18-50; E. Paul Durrcnbcrger, "Reciprocity in Gautrck's Saga," TIJe Dynamics ofMedieval Jcelmul (Iowa City: University oflowa Press, 1992), pp. 65-74; and the five essays which appear in Ross Samson, ed., Social Approaches to Vikiug Studies (Glasgow: Cruitl-me Press, 1991), pp. 87-133. 25. O n the interrelations of wealth and prestige economics, sec Pierre Bourdicu, Distiuctiou: A Social Ct•itiqtte of the Judgement of Taste (Cambridge, MA: H arvard University Press, 1984); and Richard Leppert and Bruce Lincoln , eds., "Discursive Strategies and the Economy of Prestige," special issue of Cultt"·at Ct·itiqu.e 12 (Spring 1989). 26. Gautrck's Sagn- 11 (Ranisch 47.21-22): " rfkr jar! var mMurfaoir pinn , en faoir pinn 0ruggr kappi." 27. Ibid. (Ranisch 48.28 - 49.6): "Nu let Gautrekr konungr b6a til vcizlu, ok gckk n(t Rcfi· ar eiga Hclgu, d6ttur Gautrcks kommgs; par mco gaf Gautrekr konungr honum jarls nafi1, ok p6rti hinn fi·xgazti at <;>llum vasklcik, var o k rett hans af tignum m<;>nnum , en faoir hans hinn mcsti vikingr okkappi. Rcfr styroi pcssu jarlsriki ok van) ckki gamall ." 28. That tl1is binary distinction is characteristic of Old Norse language and ideology (rather than a tripartite scheme of past-present-future) has been convincingly demonstrated by Paul Bauschatz, 17Je Well aud the Ti·ee (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1982).

Chapter 10

Notes to Pages 189-193 and M. Detienne, eds., La Cu.isiue dtt sacrifice (Paris: Gallimard, 1979), pp. 239 - 49; and Alfi·ed H eubeck a nd Arie Hoekstra, eds., A Commeutary OtJ Homer's "Odyssey» (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), 2: 132- 40. Enrico Campanile, "I bovi del sole iperione," l11co11tri Litlfjllistici l l (1986): 25-30, is so reminiscem of Friedrich Max MUller's longd iscredited theory of myth as a "disease oflanguagc" that it hardly merits d iscussion. 15. Odyssey 12.394-396: TOtCHV li' au-rix' 6teLTCl 9eot TEQCICl7tQOUcpCllVOV' ElQ7tOV llev QlVOl, xe&ali' Ollcp' 6~EA0tCH IIEIIUXCL, 6n-raA&a -re xal.
guttural-extension of the root that oilers an onomatopoetic app roximation of sounds made with th e lips p ressed together and forward (cf. Lithuanian mtikitl, mflkti, Russian myctit', Middle High German mti.hm). Julius Pokorny, btdogermrmiscbe etymologisches WorterlmciJ (Bern: Francke Verlag, 1959), pp. 751-52. 17. Iliad 20.260: "ll&yali' Oj!cpl aax<><; llllxE lioue~ axroxji." 18. Iliad 5.749 and 8 .393, which arc formulaically identical. 19. Iliad 12.457-462: a-r~ lif: J!Oh.' eyy\J<; ioov, xat eQ&laOI!EVOc; ~ah.c 11&aaac;, Ei'i lita~ac;, 'ivai!~ oi. acpaue6-reeov p&A.oc; eiT),

Q;;!;E li' an' Ol!cpo-r&eouc; 9ateoUc;· n&aE lie A\9<><; &taro ~et9oauvn. ll&yali' Ol!cpl7tUAClli!UxOV, ouli' ae' 6x~Ec; eax&9eTT)V, oaviliec; lie lit&TIICIYEV &h.ulitc; OAATJ h.iioc; uno (!mfic;· 20. Iliad 18.579-586, which describes a scene on the shield of Achilles:

ev

aiiEQiiCIAEO>Iie AEOVTE Iii)' 1tQOOTTIOL ~6&am -rai3eov eQUYWlADV exeTTJV. 65& IICIXQcl IIEIIUX0Jc; EAxETO' TOV lie xuv&c; 1iETEXla9ov i]li' ail;T]OL TeO llev avaee~~CIVTE ~ooc; IIEYOAOlO ~OelT)V Eyxa-ra xal. 11&h.av al11a h.acpuoae-rov· oi lis voJ!ii&c; au-rroc; evlileoav -rax∾ xuvac; 6-reuvov-rec;. oi. li' ~ -rot liaxe&tv 11ev ane-reroniiiv-ro A&6v-rrov, iaTcliiEVOl li& llclA' &nO<; UAOXTEOV EX -r' aA&ov-ro. 21. Odyssey 10.410-415. 22. Iliad 21.234-2 39 : 6 li' en&oou-ro OLiii!ClTl 9UO>v. 1tOVTCl li' OQlVE (!&&9ea X\JXOOIIEVOc;, WOE lie vexeoU<; noUoUc;, cii QCI xa-r' CIUTOV ah.tc; Eaav, oiX; x-rav' 'Axth.A&Uc;· -ro\J<; Ex~CIAAE 9UQCll;E, IIEIIUXclJc; tifrrE -rai3Qoc;, x&eoovlie· <.;rooU<; lie aaro xa-ra xah.a (!&&9ea. XQU1tTOlV ev litvnot ~aeeinotv IIEYclATIOl. 23. On Culianu's work and the tragic circumstances of his death, sec Ted Anton, Et·os, Magic, a11d the Murder ofProfessor Cttliam~ (Evanston: Northwestern University P ress, 1996). 24 . I have discussed the reasons for tlus shift in Death, War, ami Saet·ifice (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 199 1), pp. xiii-xxi and 119 - 27.

284

Notes to Pages 193-196

Chapter 11 J . On Jones, sec the literature cited in chap. 4, n. 24. 2. Jones voiced his concern about the issue of oaths in letters available in Garland Cannon, cd., TJJe Letters ofSil· William Jones, 2 vols. (Oxford : Clarendon Press, 1970), 2:67778 (6 June 1785, to Charles Wilkins), 2:682 (17 Sept. 1785, to Charles Wilkins), 2:685-86 (28 Sept. 1785, to Thomas Law) . Also relevant is a letter of 5 February 1785 to William Pitt the Younger, 2:662. 3. Cannon, LettersofSir William]oues, 2:720- 21 (24 Oct. 1786, to C. W. Boughton Rouse). 4. Ibid., 2:683-84 (28 Sept. 1785, to Charles Chapman). Cf. 2:742 (22 July 1787, to the second Earl Spencer) and 2:795 ( 19 March 1788, to Lord Cornwallis). 5. 1bid., 2:686 (30 Sept. 1785, to Arthur Pritchard ). Cf. 2:717-18 (23 Oct. 1786, to Warren Hastings). 6. Just before his death, Jones published tl1e first translation of this text, securing for it a privileged place in Orientalist scholarship and in tl1c British administration of India: I mtitlltcs of Hiudtt Law; or, the Ordi1~ances of Mem~ (1 794). 7. Cannon, Letters ofSit· William Jo11es, 2:682 (17 Sept. 1785, to Charles Wilkins). Cannon states tl1at Ramalocana was oftl1c Vaidya (i.e., Vaideha) caste, but this is hard to reconcile with standard ideology, which makes Vaidehas tl1e oftspring of vaisya fathers and kfaN·iya mothers and assigns them the task of service to women (Miitmva Dharmafiistra 10.11 and 47). Medical practice is assigned to members of tl1e much higher-ranking Amba~t:ha caste, who arc said to be sons of Brahman fathers and Vaisya motl1crs (Miinava Dharmniiistra 10.8 and 47). Elsewhere, Jones says that R..'imalocana, "though not a Bmhman, is an excellent scholar and a very sensible unprejudiced man." Lord Teigcnmoutl1, ed., Works of Sir William Joues (London: ). Stockdale and T. Walker, 1807), 4: 19. 8. Cannon, Lette1·s of Sir William Jones, 2:748 (12 Aug. 1787, to tl1c second Earl Spencer), 2:813 (19 Sept. 1788, to the second Earl Spencer). 9. Sir William Jones, "On the Chronology of the Hindus," in Collected Works 4:1-47, followed by "A Supplement to tl1e Essay on Indian Chronology," 4:48-69. 10. Ibid ., 4: J. J l. Ibid ., 4:2. 12. Sec the discussion of S. N. Mukherjee, Sir William Jones (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1968), pp. 97-104. Jones's religious commitments, and his interest in reconciling Hindu witl1 biblical chronology, arc evident in the list of his interests discussed at pp. 188-89, his 1784 essay "On the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India," Collected YWirks 4:319- 97 (itself stimulated by J. Bryant's 1775 work, TIJe A11alysis of A11cimt Mythology), and several pieces of correspondence contemporary with his essay on chronology. See Cannon, Lette1·s ofSi,· William jones, 2:758 (26 Aug. 1787, to the second Earl Spencer), 2:784 (8 Oct. 1787, to Lady Spencer), 2:785 (5 Jan. 1788, to Henry Ford: "tl1e four vedas, or Indian scriptures, which confirm, instead of opposing the Mosaic account of tl1c creation, and of tl1c deluge"). 13. Cannon, LettersofSil· WilliamJotles, 2: 12. 14. Ibid. 15. Ibid., 2:29-30. 16. Ibid., 2:42. Cf. his concluding remarks: "Thus have we given a sketch of India11 History through the longest period fairly assignable to it, and have traced the foundation of the lt1diatt empire above tJJI-ee thousand eight htmdred years from tl1e present time; but, on a subject in itself so obscure, and so much clouded by the fictions of the Bmhmam, who, to aggr;mdizc themselves, have designedly r:1iscd their antiquity beyond the trutl1, we must be satisfied with probable conjecture and just reasoning from tl1e best attainable data" (2 :45 ).

285

Notes to Pages 203-212

Notes to Pages 196-202 17. Tn his concluding table (2: 47), jones is quite precise, setting the creation of Adam; Manu as "5794 Years from 1788 of our era." If one performs the necessary calculations, this yields a date of 4006 B.C.B., or two years earlier than the standard biblical chronologies with which he is working. To account for this deviation fi·om the_ expected result, I ~vould offer two hypotheses: (1) the master linguist was weak in subtractton; (~) h~ meant for the twoyear discrepancy to vouch for the independence, originality, and rcl.'ablltty ofl~ts results. . 18. Jones, "On th e Chronology of the Hindus," 4:27- 28 (slightly modtficd to clanfy orthography and nomenclatu re at several points). . . . . 19 . Cf. ibid., 4:22: "The received Chronology of the Hmdm begms wtth an absl~rdtty so monstrous, as to overth row the whole system." Similar, ifless swecpmg, remarks arc tound at 4:33, 35, 42, and 43. . 20 . The classic version of the story appears at Mahabhiimta 1.76 - 80. For other vanants, see Agni Pura~1a 274.2 1- 23, Bhagavata Pm·a~m 9.18-19, Brah1~1a Pttriir,_a 10.4- 38, Bmhmanda Purii11a 2.3.68.14 - 107, Kfwma Ptwa~m 1.22.6-11, Lmga Pttrar;a 66.6367.14, Pura~;a 2.15- 103, and Mhb. 5.147. It has been discussc~, inter alia, by Geo~·ges Dumezil, Mythe et epopee (Paris: Gallimard, 1971 ), 2:239-71, Engbsh mms. by Alf Hlltebeitel, The Destiny of a ICing (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1?73~, PP·. 9-27. That Jones's interlocutors followed the Mahabhamta or the Bhiigavata Pttra~a ts mdtcated by the directions they associated with each of the five brothers, whtch dtffer 111 the other van ant~. 2 1. See the discussion of P. V. K;me, I-listo1·y of Dhannasiistm (Poona: Bhandarkar Onental Research Institute, 1941 ), 2:50-58. Relevant texts include Apastambha Dhanna Stitm 2.6. 13. 1- 5, Mar~m>a Dharma Siistra 10 .5 a nd 41, Krwtilya Dharma Siistra 3.7, Gautama Dharma Sam·a 4.25, etc. 22. Mhb. 1.76.31-34:

Vayu

yayatir uvaca I adhanno na sp~sed eva!J1 mahan mam iha bhargava I varl)asaqtlcarajo brahman iti rvaq1 prav~t)omy aham I I sukra uvaca I adharmat tvam vimuftciimi varayasva yathepsitam / asmin viva he 1~1a glasir ahaq1 papa111 nudami te I I vahasva bha1yiiq1 dharmei)a devayanTrp sumadhyamam I anatha saba sarpprTtim atulam samavapsyast I/ iyarp capi kumari te sarm i~t h a var~aparvat)i I saq1pujya satataq1 t"iijan ma cainarp sayane lwayel) I I 23. Mhb. 1.77 .23: "dcvayanya bhujiwasmi vasya ca tava bhargavi I sa caharp ca tvaya . - . -rajan bharat)Tye bhajasva mam I/" 24. Mhb. 1.80.14-15: "yadur jyenhas rava suto ... kathaq1 JYC~~han attkramya kamyat rajyam arhati." 25. Mbh . 1.80.16-18: yayatir uvaca / brahmal)iipramukha vart)al) sarve sp)vantu me vacal) I jycnha!]1 prati yatha rajya~1 na dc~arp ·~~ kathaqKana I I mama jyc~thena yaduna myogo nanupahtal) / pratikiilal) pitur yasca na sa putral) satarp mata~ I I miitapitror vacana~ddhital) pathyasca yab sural) / sa putral) putravad yaka vartatc pitt;maq;~u I/ 26. Mbh. 1.80.22-23: prala;taya iicul) / . . _ yal) putro gut)asarppanno matapttt·~r lmal) sada / sarvam arhati kalyat)am kanTthan apt sa prabho I I

286

arhal) purur idaq1 rajyarp yal) sural) priyakrt tava 1 varadanena sukrasya na sakya111 vaktum urtaram 11 27. A11·eady in the R.g l&da these heroes are associated with the cardinal directions, although they arc not there u·eated as brothers. See RV 1.108.8 and 8.10.5. 28 . Jones, "On the Chronology of the Hindus," 4:28. For philological analysis, sec Manfred Mayrhofer, Km·zgefnsstes etymologische.r Wii1·te1·bu.ch des Altindischm (Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1956-76) 3:9, and the literature cited therein. 29. Jones, "On the Chronology of the Hindus," 4:13, 15, 16, 19. The chiefsotu·cc on which Jones relied was a summary of the Purat)as that he obtained in March 1787. E ntitled Pura~zarthaprakasa, it had been prepared by R.
I

32. Mhb. 1.79.18-19: yayatir uvaca I yat tvaq1 me hrdayaiiato vayal) svaq1 na prayacchasi 1 tasmad druhyo priyal) kamo na te sa.rppatsyatc kvacit / / ucjupaplavasaJ11tiiro yarra nitya!]1 bhavi~yati / araja bhojasabdaq1 tvaq1 tatravapsyasi sfuwayab I I 33. Mbh. 1.79.22-23: yayatir uvaca I yat tva111 me hrdayaftato vayal) svaq1 na prayacchasi I jat"iido~as tvayokto 'yaq1 tasmat tva111 pratipatsyase / / prajasca yauvanaprapta vi nasi~yanty ano rava I agnipraskandanaparas tvaq1 capy evaq1 bhavi~yasi / / 34. Mhb. 1.79.11- 13: Yayatir uvaca I yat rvaq1 me hrdayaftjato vayal) svaq1 na prayacchasi / tasmat praja samucchedat1J turvaso tava yasyati / / sati1kin)karadharmqu pratilomacarqu ca / pi si tasi~u cantye~u mucjha raja bhavi~yasi 11 gurudaraprasaktc~u tiryagyonigate~u ca / pasudhanni~u pape~u m l ecchc~u pra bhavi~yasi / /

287

Notes to Pages 212-216

Notes to Pages 000-000

Epilogue

Tala~eri, T1Je At·ya11 b1vasion T11eory: A Reappraisal (New Delhi: Adirya Prakashan, 1993); Marttros Kavoukjtan, Armema, Subm·tu, aud Smner: The Indo·Europea11 Homelrmd and AnciCilt Mesopotamia (Montreal: M. K.1Voukjian, 1987). _1~. Sec furtl1cr my discussion in Priests, Wan·iors, attd Cattle: A Study in tbe Ecology of Reli.!JIOIIS (Berkeley: University of Californ ia Press, 1981), pp. 179- 84.

l. Works that attempt to summarize the cu rrent state of knowledge include ). P. Mallory, Eucyclopcdia of Iudo-Europcn.u Culmre (London: Fitzroy Dearborn, 1997); Thomas V. Gam krelidzc and Vyacheslav V. Ivanov, btdo-Europerm rmd the bulo-Europerms: A Recoustmctiou 1111d Histo1·iml Attalysis ofa PI"Oto-lrmguage aud a Proto·cttlttwe, trans. johanna Nichols, eel. Werner Winter (Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 1995); R. S. P. Beckcs, Compamtir1e IlldoEm·opcatl Liugttistics: An Intmdttctiou (Amsterdam: J. Benjamins, 1995); Frano;:oisc Bader, cd., La11gttcs iudo-eu.ropeemtes (Paris: CNRS Editions, 1994); Winfred Lehmann, Them·etica/ Bases of bulo-Europeau Linguistics (London: Routledge, 1993); and Oswald Szcmcrenyi, Eittfiilmmg i11 die l!ergleicheudc Sprnchwissenschaft (Darmstadt: Wisscnschaftliche Buchgcscllschaft, I 989). 2. A second analogy also makes implicit contributions to theories of Indo-European diffusion. This is the expansion of Germanic tribes across western Europe and nortl1crn Africa during the "Barbarian invasions," or Volkerwmtdertmg. This is, however, a much weaker case, since the peoples in question did not transform tl1e languages oftl10se whom they conquered. 3. N. S. Trubctzkoy, "Gcda11kcn tiber das Indogcrmancnproblcm," Acta Lingu.istica I (1939): 81-89, rcpr. in Anton Scherer, ed., Die Urheimat der Iudogennatten (Darmstadt: Wisscnschaftlichc Gcscllschaft, 1968), pp. 214-23. 4. Franco Crcvatin, RicerciJe m/1' rmtichitfl. indoem·opea (Trieste: Edizioni LINT, 1979). 5. Stefan Zimmer, Unpmchc, Ut·11olk tmd Indogcmmnisicnmg: Zttr Methode det• ittdoget·ma11iscbell Altcrtttmskttude (l nnsbruck: Institut fiir Sprachwissenschaft, 1990). 6. Procopius, VMtdalic Wad.2.2-5: 'To-r9txa cOvrproUcqti:v xal aA.A.a 1IQ01"€QOV 1"€ ~v xal-ravuv eon, -ra Bi: lill 1IOV1"0lV ~u':yto-ra -re xal a~wA.oyro-ra-ra r 6-r9ot-ri: dot xat Pav!ilAOl xal. Outotyo-rOot xal r~nmliec;. nal.m J.IEv-rot WUQO~ta-rm xal. MeAvoJ.tal;ov-ro· eiot Iii: o'l xal. r e-rtxa &Ovq -rau-r' exaA.ouuv. OUTOl iinav-rec; OVOJ.IOOt J.li:V aA.A.~A.rov litaqJEQOOOIV, 0001II':Q elQ1l1"0l, aA.M91ii: -riliv 1IQV1"(1)V oulievl!itaAAOOOOUOl. A.euxo\ -re YUQ iinav1"6<; -ra oro~ta-ra eiot xal-rac; XOJ.IOc; ~avOot, eupi]xetc; n: xa't ayaOol-rac; oljletc;, xal VOJ.IOtc; J.li:V -roi:c; ai>-roi:c; XQiiiv-rat, O~lULro<; lie "tel f:c; "tOY 9eov au-roi:c; ~<JX11 1"0 l . -r~c; yaQ 'AQelOU lio~qc; eio'tv iinav-rec;, cprov~ -re au-roi:c; E<J"tl J.llU, ro-r9tx~ A£yOJ.ICV11" xa't ~lOt lioxouv e~ i:voc; ~lCV el Vat 07IOV1"€<; 1"0 1IOAQlOV EOvouc;, OVOJ.IUOtlii: U01"EQOV -riliv exao-rotc; TJYTJOUJ.IEV(I)V litaXEXQLOflat. ou-roc; 0 A.eiDc; U1IEQ 7I01"UJ.IOV . ,01"QOV EX 7IUAOlOU
288

289

Index

Agricola (Tacitus), 112 Allard, Jean-Paul, 122 Althcim, Franz, 73 Amonians (Bryant), 92, 93, 94 Annius of Viterbo (Giovanni Nanni), 4849 Anthropology: cephalic index, 106; inHucnce of Plato on, 210; influences on Malinowski, 72; shift from myth-based philology to, 69-71 Anti -Semitism: of Bayreuth circle, 110; of Feucrbach, 57-58; of Wagner, 58, 6 1, 66 Archeology: evidence of origin of IndoEuropcans, 215 Aristocrats, Athenian, 37 "The Artwork of the Future" (Wagner), 58-59 Aryan myth: discourse in twentieth centur y, 75; of Kuhn, 64; of N ietzsche, 64 - 65; ofWelcker, 64 Aryans: barbarian qualities (Nietzsche), 107; cephalic index as test of, 106; construction of ancient ancestors as, 21112; contrasted with Semites, 64 - 66, 142; in discourse during nineteenth and twentieth centuries, 74 - 75; as heroes, 252 n. 12; as heroic blond beasts (Nietzsche), 103, 120; India as homeland of (Schlegel), 56; Jones's hypothesis of ancient, 74; in Nazi discourse, 75; physical identity, 106, 111; of South Asia (Max MUller), 66-67; theories of origins o f,

214 - 15; usc of term "Aryan race," 61. See also fndo-European peoples; PreAryan population Asia: H erder's theory of origins in, 54 -55; Jones's characterization of peoples of, 96-100; o rigin of important language fam ily in (Jones), 54-55, 82-83; Wagner's tracing of Germans origin to, 6061 Association: in narrative of the Phaedms, 154 - 55; in taxonomy of the Sybil's death, 166 Barrow, Isaac, 9 3 Bayreuth circle, 60 - 61, 66, llO, 120 The Bet/ Ctwve (Herrnstein and Murray), 123 Benveniste, Emile, 88, 145 Beowulf, 130 - 31 Bcrosus, 48 - 49 Bias of Priene, 26 Bible, the: Enlightenment veiled critiques of, 49; interest of northern Europeans in (1640s), 49; Wulfila's Gothic translation of New Testament, 49. Sec also Book of Genesis The Birth of Tragedy (Nietzsche): German culture and politics in, 62-63; mythic narratives in, 61-62, 65; Prometheus myth, 64-65 Bloch, Marc, 133 Blond beast (Nietzsche), xi, 101-4, 106, 109-11, 118-20

291

hlffc.\;

buie...: Book of Genesis: absence of Tuyscon in , 49; lk)rant 's reordering of ethnography of~ 85 - 116; jones's link of primordial races with ethnology of, 91 - 93; preconceptions of Herder and jones based on, 54 - 55; theory of human origins from peo ple in, 79-80, 94 Ropp, Franz, 56, 66, 88, 143 Boudinoi people (Herodotus), 112 Boxho rn, Marcus Zuerius, 80 - 8 1 Brandon,S. G. F., 71 Brcal, Michel, 73 Brennecke, Detlcf, I J I Bryanr, jacob, 85- 87,91 - 92,94,95 Bunse n, Christian , 66 Burnouf, Eugene, 66, 73 Caillois, Roger, 143 Carus, Carl Gustav, I 06 Celtis, Conrad , I ll Celts: as blond Aryans (Nietzsche), 106 Cephalic index , 106 Chamberlain , Houston Stewart, 6 1 Childe, V. Gordon , 215 Christianit)r: as anti-Aryan religion (Nictz· schc ), I 09, 120; Feucrbach 's analysis, 57; implied as myth, SO; Jewish roots as source of (Nietzsche), J 09 - 10 Chronolog)': alignment of biblical and In· dian ( jones), 193 - 95 Clcdonomancy, 164, 165 Cornford, Francis, 7 1 Crevatin , F1~1nco, 213 Critias, 36-3 7 Cu lture: Ann ius's forged text describing German , 48 - 49; cultural relativism ( Herder), 52 - 53; misrepresented as nature in the Tni11, 147- 49 Cullllre, 01~11: myth as (Xenophanes), 2830; Socrates in , 38; in 'T11cogouy and Odyssey, 19-25 de Benoist , Abin, 12 1, 137 De Pytbiac 11mculis ( Plutarch), 160-64 de Saumise, Claude, 8 1 Detienne, Marcel, 7 Dmtscbc Mytholo,l}ic (). and W. Grimm), 56 - 57 de Vries, jan, 73, 125 - 26 DiodorusSiculus, 113- 14

Discrim inatio n: binary oppositions as instruments of, 11 8 - 19, 142; in mythic form of taxonomy, 147- 49 Dubuisson, Daniel , xi Dumczil, Georges, 73; career and contribu· tion; of, !23 - 24; criticism of, 145 - 46; as "Georges Marcenay," 128; hallmarks of Indo· European myth and religion, xi; influence on L{:vi-Strauss and Eliade, 142; studies of myths, 14 1 Durkhcim , Emile, 70 , 146 - 47 Egil One-Hand, 130 Egoism: of Jews (~eucrbach ), 57- 58; Wag· ncr's usc of theme, 58 - 59 Eliadc, Mircca: contributions to studies of myt hs, 141 ; criticism o t~ 145; influences on thought of, 142; usc of comparative mythology, 73 Eliot, T. S., 71, 160 Empedoclcs of Acragas, 31- 32, 156-58 Enlightenment, the: criticism of mythic po· etry, 50 - 5 1; criticism of the Bible, 49 ; Hamann's opposition to values of, 5 1 Eribon, Didier, 125, 127- 28 17Je Essence ofChristia11ity (Fcuerbach ), 5758 Etudes intfo-em·opteucs, 12 1, 123 European people: acceptance by northern people of ideas in Gcmm11ia, 48; inter· est of northern people in the Bible, 49; physical and personality characteristics attributed to northern, 110- 18; physical and personality characteristics aw·ibuted to southern, 114 - 15; theories oflan· guagc origins of northern, 78- 79. Sec also German people Evola, julius, 143 Extispicy (reading of organs), 163, 165

Fnbulac: Greek and Ro man post-Plato view of, 47; o f Roman stories, x Feist, Sigmund, 215 Fcucrbach, Ludwig, 57- 58 Folk, 122 Footnotes: role in scholarly text, 208 - 9; triumphant over myth , 21 J Fmw 'l11cm·ics of Myth iu 'llllmtietb·CenttH·y History (Strcnski ), xi Frazer, James George, 70- 72

292

Gayre, Roberr, 123 Gellner, Ernest, 71- 72 Genesis. See Book of Genesis Gcmmuin gcnemlis (Celtis), 111 Gemmuia (Tacitus), 47-48, 78, Ill Germanic mythology: Dumczil's o·catmcnt of, 128- 36; myth ofTyr, 128-29, 131, 134-36; narratives about loss of body parts, 129-32; 6oinn, 131, 1 33; politi· cal subtcxts of Dumczil's treatment of, 136- 37 German people: accepting idea of Asian origin, 55 - 56; Ann ius's fu rgcd text about culture of, 48 - 49; as descendants of blond Aryans (Pocschc), I 12; idea of national identity, 55, 210; as northern people, 113; Ooinn as inspiring force tor (Dumczil), 131; origins of( Hu bert), 127; Tacitus's description of, I 13 Gimbutas, Marija , 215 Ginzburg, Carlo, 125 Giraldus Cambrensis, 77-78 Gobi neau, Artur (count), 6 1, 105-6 G01·gias, 33 - 34 Goropianism, 78 Goropi us, Johannes Becanus, 78, 80 Greater Brmdahisu, 183-88 Greek tragedy: Nietzsche's history ot: 6263 Grimm, jacob, 56-57, 88,2 10 Grimm , Wilhelm, 56 , 210 Gn~nbcch , Vilhclm, 73 Grottancl i, Cristiano, I 07 Gucnon, Rene, 143 Giintcrt, Hermann, 73 Glinther, Hans F. K., 75, 122 Hair: blond and dark hair in Virchow's re· search, 106; differences in colo r related to location, 112-13; significance of blond (Nietzsche), 104 - 5; warning abom dark-haired people (Nietzsche), 106 - 7 Halhcd, Nathaniel, 83 Hamann, johann Georg, 51 - 52 Harrison, jane Ellen, 7 1 Haudry, Jean, 12 1- 22, 137 Hauer, jacob Wilhelm, 73 Havelock, Eric, 217 n . l (chap. 1) Hegel , G. W. F., 72

1-lcpatoscop)' (reading oflivcrs), 163, 164, 165 Die Hcmbkrmj't des Fcucrs rmtf tics Gottcrtmuks ( Kuhn ), 64 Heraclidcs of Pontus, 168-69 Heraclitus, 26 - 27 Herder, Johann Gottfi·icd: ideas about language, 69; notion of Volk, 74; system in /dew, 52-54; theorizing myth , 211; theory of Asian origins, 54 - 57 ll erodotus, I 12 Herrnstein , Richard, 123 Hcsiod : f·orms o f speech usc by, 3- 8, 1118; 771cogou.r, 3-8, 23 - 25; Works m1tf Days, 4 - 8; Xcnophancs' criticism of, 29 Hierarch)': in classification (Durkheim ), 147; contested in myth of Primordial Ox, 183 - 88; in myth ofYayati, 203 -6; in rhc Pbnedms, J 53 - 55, I SS; within taxonomy ofdivinatory practices, 16669 H immlcr, Heinrich, 125 Hirt, Hermann , 2 14 Hitler, Adolph: association with god 6oinn, 134; repudiation of Locarno Pact, 267n.82 Ho fler, Otto, 73, 125- 26 Ho mer: accusations agai nst, 33- 34; forms of speech used by, 10- 18; Gorgias's accusations against, 33-34; logoi ot: 8; Xcnophanes' criticism ot~ 29 Homeric Hy11111 to Hermes, 9 Hooke, S. H., 71 Ho rn, Georg, 8 1 Hubert, Henri, 126 - 27

Idem zm· Philosophic tier Gcscbicbtc der Meuscbbeit ( Herder), 52-56 Ideology: in Hcsiod's Thcogo11y, 23-25; Indo-European tripartite ( Dumczil), 124-25, 142 - 43, 145; myth in narra· tivc form as, xii, 147- 49; Nietzsche's recoding of political, 104 -5; as part of scholarship, 207-8; theory of an unknown Sophist, 34 -36 Iliatf ( Ho mer): usc oflogoi in, 9- 10; usc of mythos/mytiJeomai in, I 7-18 India: as Aryan homeland (Schlegel ), 56; German interest in, 55-56; myth limit· ing advancement of (Max Mii ller), 67

293

Index Indo-European languages: Giraldus's thesis, 77- 78; phonology and morphology, 68-69; relation among, 212 Indo-European mythology: Dumczil's work as scholarly basis for, xi, 123-37; sntdies reconstituting, 121-23 Indo-European peoples: contributors to Dumczil's thought about, 125- 26; of Dumczil, 142, 145- 46; Dumczil's studies of, 123-27; Dumczil's three-function theory, 124, 128-3 1, 142- 43; ofEiiadc, 142 - 43; Jacolliot's interpretation of origins, 108; Jones's thesis, 81- 82; postwar discourse about, xiv; as replacement for Aryans, 94 - 95; superiority of(de Benoist, Haudry, Pearson), 137; theorizing about issues related to, 216 Institute for the Study of Man, 122 Intt·odu ctiou tll)JJistoil·c dtt Drmcmarc (Mallet), 50 Jacolliot, Louis, 107-9 Jager, Andreas, 8 1 Jakobson, Roman, 143, 147 jews: contrasted with Greeks (Fcuerbach ), 57; in diaspora (Herder), 56; egoism of ( Feuerbach), 57-58; H erder's discussion of, 56; Jones's treatment of, 93; as less dangero us form of C hristian (Nietzsche), 109-10; in Nazi myths, 75. See also Anti -Semi tism Jo nes, Sir William, xi, 68, 74; agenda for study while in India, 84, 86; on common source of languages, xi, 54,83 - 84, 87- 90, 95; duties and projects in India, 192; Indo-European thesis of, 81-82; influence of Bryant on, 85-87, 91-95; remarks on Asia, 82- 83; study of Sanskrit, 192-93; on superiority of Asian poetry, 82; theory of civilizational accomplishments, 87-91 ]ottr11nl ofbuio-Em·opean Studies) 122-23 Jung, C. G., 73, 143 Kaufmann, Walter, 104, 111 Kerenyi, Karolyi, 73 Kirchmaycr, George Caspar, 81 Koppers, Wilhelm , 215 Kosinna, Gustaf, 214 Kuhn , Adalbert, 64, 88

L1ng, Andrew, 70 Language families: distinguishing between Ar)•an, Semitic, and Turanian ( Max Miillcr), 67-68 Languages: compared to mythologies (Bryant), 85; Goropianism fallacy, 78; Hamann's theory of, 51-52; IndoEuropean phonology and morphology, 68- 69; Jews' lack of own (Wagner), 58; jones's thesis of com mon origin of, xi, 54, 83 - 84, 87-88; lexical comparisons (Giraldus), 77-78; linguistic taxonomy of Max Miillcr, 67- 69; origin o f (Herder), 69; origins of northern, 78 - 81; in quest for symbols of a nation-state, x; recovery of unrecorded, 24 1 n. 87; relation among Indo-European, 212; seeking links to Greek and Larin, 78-79; Snorri's idea of, 77-79; Sophists' questions about , 33; Stamm[JfiUIII model, 212-13; wave model (Trubctzkoy), 212. Sec also Indo-European languages; Origins of languages; Sanskrit language; Tamil language Laws of Mauu: jo nes's usc of text, 193- 95; Nict7..schc 's usc of Jacolliot's translation, xj, 107- 9 Lcibniz, G. W., 81 Levi-Strauss, Claude, ll8, 124; influence of Dumczil on, 142- 43; writings on and treatment of myth, 141 , 149,210 Linguistics: binary oppositions, 147; in context of Dumczil's Indo-European reconstruction, 143, 145; distinction between languages with and without inflection, 67; Dumczil's interest in, 143; of Giraldus, 77-78; introduction of synellronic, 69; Jones as authority on, 83; Jones's analysis of Asian peoples', 90 93, 96 - 100; Levi-Strauss's theory of languages, 143, 145; l'rague school of, 143, 145, 147; Procopius's reconstruction of prehistoric peoples', 2 13 - 14; reconstruction of protolanguagc, 95; Saussure's contribution to, 143; as science, 212; Snorri's evidence ofTrojans' migration to the north, 77. See also Languages; Oppositions Livy, 113 Logos/logoi: in ancient texts, 10; contrasted

294

Index: with mythos/mytboi in Hesiod, 13-15; Democrirus, 30; Empedoclcs, 31; Gorgias's usc of, 33-34; in Greek epic, x; Heraclitus, 27; Hcsiod, 5-8, 11-14; Homer, 8-14; interpretations of, 10, 12; Plato's usc of, 38-41; pre-Socratic philosophers, 29-32; Xcnophancs, 28 Lommd, Herman, 73

Mytbos/mytboi: contrasted

Macpherson, James, 50-51, 211 Malinowski, Bronislaw, 71-72 Mallet, Paul Henri, 50 Mat1kind Q;tm-terly, 123 Martin, Richard, 17 Maurras, Charles, 125 Mauss, Marcel, 70, 127, 146-47 Max Miillcr, Friedrich, 66 -71, 87 Meillct, Antoine, 73, 88, 127 Metempsychosis: Empedocles' theory of, 31-32, 156 -58; l'indar, 156; Plato, 158-59 Mculi, Karl, 73 Meyer, Gerhard, 78 Mitra·Vamna (Dumezil), 128, 134 Momigliano, Arnalda, 125 Monboddo, James Burnett (lord), 87 Morgan, Michael, 155-56 Much, Matthaus, 214 Much, R.udolf, 73 Mllllcr, rriedrich Max. See Max Miillcr, Friedrich Murray, Charles, 123 Mylius, Abraham, 79 Mythes et Dieux des Gemznim ( Dumczil), 131, 133- 34 Mythologies dn XXe siccle (Dubuisson), xi Mythology: Br)•ant's analysis of ancient, 85, 91, 94; compared to languages (Bryant), 85; Nazism and Germanic (Dumczil), 131, 133 -34; post-World War li sn1dy of, 141 ; story of Siegfried in Wagner's Ring cycle, 59-60; Trojan migration to the north (Snorri), 77; Wieland the Smith, 59. See also Germanic mythology; I ndo-European mythology Mythology, comparative: in France, 73; Ku hn as advocate of, 64; linking philoiO!,'Y and anthropology (D umczil), 73; of Max Miillcr, 66-71 ; in twentiethcentury Europe, 73-74

\\~th

logos/logoi

in Hcsiod, 13- 15; crafted by poets (Plato), 42; Dcmocritus's usc ofmytboplnsteolltes ( myth fubricators), 29-30; Empcdoclcs, 3 1-32; Gorgias, 34; Greek and R.oman post-l'lato view of, 47; in Greek epic, x; Hcsiod, 12-18, 23; Ho mer, 17-18, 22-23; Pannenidcs, 30; Pindar, 27; Plato's criticism of poets' usc of, 38- 42; pre-Socratic philosophers, 29 - 30; straight and crooked, 1 3- 14; Xcnophanes, 28-29 Myths: Aryan (Max MUller), 67- 68; Aryan or Indo-European in examples ot~ xi-xii; atLitude of romantics toward, 50; criticism from philosophcs of the Enlightenment, 49 -50; defining Germanic VO/k (Grimm), 56-57; denoting style o f narrative discourse, ix; in discourse related to Aryans, 74 - 75; in H erder's system, 52- 53; as ideology in narrative form, ri-xii, 147-49; jones as student of, 95; Malinowski's view, 72; in narrative form as ideology, 147-59; Nietzsche's usc of theme, 61-62; noticed by scholars interested in beliefs and customs, 69 -70; of the Phaedt·w, 151-56; philological and anthropological approaches, 69 - 71; Plato's role in changing perception of, 37-42; post-Plato treatment of, 47; post-World War II studies o f; 141; recalibration of, 149-56; relative validity and authority, ix ; as stories of primitive people, 70; students of myths spinning myths, 95-96, 215; theories and approaches to (1725- 1980), 143-44; translated from Norse Eddas, 50; view during Renaissance of Greek culntre of, x, 47-48; Wagner's reconncction of Volk to, 57-59; Xcnophanes' interpretation of, 28-29. See also Mythology; Mythology, comparative Nanni, Giovanni. Sec Ann ius ofVitcrbo (Giovanni Nanni) Nationalism: in construction of German national identity, 55, 210; interest stimulated by Genuanin, 78; Ossian in context of, 51; search for nation-state identity, x; stimulated by publications of Mallet and

295

Index Nationalism (contimtcd) Macpherson, 51; in twentieth-century Europe, 73 Nazi movement: Chamberlain's text as foundation for, 61; Gunther's role in thought of, 122; 6ilinn as force in, 131 ; scholars involved with, xiv; scholars opposing, 215; themes of myths used by, 75; thesis of Indo-European homeland, 121 ; usc of idea of blond beast, 104, 119-20 71Je NeJll Patriot, 122 Nietzsche, Friedrich: the blond beast in writings and discussions of, xi, 101-4, 106, 109, 118 ; myth in writings of, 61-66; warnings about dark-haired pre-Aryans, 107 Norden, Eduard, 111- 12 Norse Eddas: myths from, 49 - 50; Snorri's Prose Edda, 76-78 Northern League for Pan-Nordic Friendship, 122 Northem World, 122 T11e No~·tiJ/ander, 122 Nouvelle ecole (de Benoist), 121, 123 Nyberg, H. S., 73, 126 Odyssey ( Homer): praise of poets and theory of poetry, 19- 22; usc of logos/logoi in, 8- 9; usc of mythos in, 17-23 "On the Chronology of the Hindus" (Jones), 193- 206 On the Genealogy of Momls (Nietzsche), 66, 101- 5 "On the Gods of Greece, Italy, and India" (Jones), 86 - 87 Oppositions: binary (Jakobson), 147; employed by Levi-Strauss, 118; in Gatttrek's Saga, 175- 82; between myth and music (Nietzsche), 62; in narrative of the Phaedms, 154 -55; Nazi themes of Aryan and Jew, 75; in Old Norse text in the 01·k~teyinggasaga, 172 - 75; in Old Norse text ofNjoril and Skaili , 171-72; between Semites and Aryans, 57- 68, 142 Origins o f languages: Jones's hypothesis about European, 54, 83-84, 87- 90, 9 5; theories of medieval intellectuals, 76 - 78; theories of northern Europeans,

78- 79; theory of Scythian as common, 81 Origins of peoples: Box horn's theory of Scythian, 80 - 81; Herder's theory of Asian, 54-55; Jacolliot's interpretation, 108; theories about Aryans, 214- 15; theory of Genesis as single poi nt of, 79-80 Ornithomancy, 164, 165 Ossian: Macpherson's fraud, 21 l ; poetry attributed to, 50 -5 1 Otto, Walter, 73 Parke, H. W., l 64 Parmenides, 30 Pausanias, 160 Pearson, Roger, 122-23, 137 Penka, Karl, 214 Petronius, 160 Pbn.edms (Plato): contrast between Socrates' two speeches in , 39- 40; as example of processes in mythic genre, 151-56 Philology: Max Muller's use of older myth based, 69 -7 1; paradigm shift to anthropology from, 70-71. See also Languages; Linguistics Philosopher-kings: as instmctors of poets (Plato ), 42; in the Pbn.edms, 153-56 , 158; scrutiny of poets' myths, 42 Philosophy: of Enlightenment philosophes, 50; philosophers in real-life hierarchy, l 58-59; philosophers using mythoi i11 \vtitings, 39 -42; as regime of truth (Plato), 42; use of logos and mytbos in pre-Socratic, 29-32 Phlegon ofTralles, 163-65 Piccolomini, Aeneas Silvius, 47-48. See also Pius II (pope) Pindar, 156, 158 Pioneer Fund, 122 Pius II (pope), 48 Plato: analysis of the Phaedms, 151-56; champion of Athenian aristocracy, 37; criticism of philosophers trafficking in mythoi, 39; recognition of value of myths and poets, 40; use of his attitude toward myth , 209 - 10 Plutarch: account of the Sybil of Delphi, 160 - 64; eschatology of, 166

296

b tdex Poeschc, Theodor, 106, 111, 112 Poetry: in Athens at end of fifth century, 37; attributed to Ossian, 50-51; Gorgias's view of, 33; Max MUller's conception, 67; Plato's campaign against poets and, 38-40; retheorized mythic, 51; Xenophanes' criticism of, 38 Poets: attacks in pre-Socratic writings on, 26 - 27; Heraclitus's criticism of, 26-27; Plato's recognition of value of, 40 - 42; roles different from philosopher-kings (Plato), 42 Prasch, Johann Ludwig, 78 Pre-Aryan population: Slavo-Finns as (Q uatrefages), 105 -6; warning about dark-haired German people as (Nietzsche), 107 Primiti11e Cln.ssi.ficn.tion (Durkheim/ Mauss), 146- 47 Procopius, 213-14 Prometheus: Aryan origins (Kuhn), 64; contrasted with Eve (Nietzsche), 64 - 65 Protagoras, 32-33 Quatrefages, Armand de, 105-7 Race: blond beast in many races (Nietzsche), 10 3- 4; differentiation by anthropologists, 69; Gobincau 's theories of, 61 ; Jones's identification of primordial races, 9 1- 93; light races triumph over darker races (Poesche), 106, 111; Wagner's embrace ofGobineau's theories of, 61 Racism: of Belt Cm·ve analysis, 123; of Gayre and Pearson, 123. See also Nazi movement Rask, Rasmus, 88 Religion: Christianity as anti -Aryan (Nietzsche), 109- 10; Indo-European, 12526; Indo-European (Gunther), 122; Jacollio t's interpretation of Semites', 108; symbolism in, 171 Renan, Ernest, 68 Renfrew, Colin, 2 15 Representations: to modify social reality, 272 n. 26 R epublic (Plato), 38 - 39 Retzius, Anders, 106 Romanticism: in construction of German

national identity, 55; embracing myth, 210; Hamann as forerunner of 51- 52· of Herder, 52 ' ' Rosenberg, Alfred, 75, 125 Rudbcck, Olof, 78 Said, Edward, 84 Sanskrit language: German interest in, 5556; Jones's discussion of, 87- 90; Jones's mastery of, 19 3 Saussure, Ferdinand de, 69, 73, 143 Schaeder, H ans Heinrich, 73 Schemann, Ludwig, 61 Schlegel, August, 63 Schlegel, Friedrich, 56, 63, 66 Schleicher, August, 88, 143 Scholarship: based on beliefs and customs, 69 -70; comparative mythology, 73; diffe rences fro m myth, xii, 208- 11; Macpherson's undocumented, 211; as myth, 215; question of ideology as, 207-8; related to Aryan origins, 214 - 15; role of debate in, 208-9; role of footnotes in, 208-9, 211 Schriekius, Adrian, 78 Schroder, Franz Rolf, 73 Schroeder, Leopold von, 73 Scythian thesis, 81-82, 87 Semites: contrasted with Aryan (Nietzsche), 64-66; Eliade's opposition between Aryans and, 142; Jacolliot's interpretation, 1 08; ritual as genius of, 67 Sick, David, 188 Smith, W. Robertson, 70 Snorri Sturluson, 76-78, 81, 128 - 29, 171- 72 Socrates, 37-38; Nietzsche's argument against, 6 3- 64; Plato's account of death of, 39 Sophists, 32-36 Speech: forms used in Hesiod and Homer, 13- 18; usc of logos as form of (Heracli tus), 27 Stn.mmbn.mn model: challenges to, 21213; of development of Indo-European languages, 212,216 Strabo, 11 3 Strenski, Ivan, xi, 127 Structuralism (Levi-Strauss), 145

297

Index Sybil ofCumac: Apollo's dealings with, 168; Eliot's story of, 160; revision, 164-70 Sybil of Delphi (Plutarch), 161- 69; divinatory practices derived from body of, 161- 67 Sybil ofErytht~lea (Phlegon): Apollo's dealings with, 168; divinatory practices derived from body of, 164-68; prophecies of, 163- 64 Symbolism of ships (Old Norse), 171- 82 Tacitus, 47- 48,78, 11 L-13 Tain B6 Ctlaituge, 147- 49 Tamil language, 108 Taxonomy: discrimination in mythic form of, 147-51; of divinatory practices, 164- 69; f:'lvored by anthropology, 69; of human life (Empedoclcs, Pindar, and Plaro), 158; myth as (Du rkheim/ Mauss ), 146 - 47; in myth of Sybil's death, 166-69; in myth ofYayati's sons, 203-6; of the Phaedrus, 153-55, 158; rccalibration of hierarchies of birth, 156- 59; Ttiin B6 Ctlaihtge, 147- 49 Theogony (Hesiod): contrast of true speech and deception in, 3- 8; legitimated speech of poet and Muses in, 23 - 25; usc of tegein and mytheomai, 3-4; usc of logos/togoi with defining words in, 5- 8 Trubctzkoy, N. S., 143, 212 Turan ian, or Turco-Mongol category (Max MOller), 68 Tuyscon, 48-49 Tylor, E. B., 70 van Gcnncp, Arnold, 70 Vernant, )can- Pierre, 7

Verrccchia, Anaclcto, 107 Vico, Giovanni Battista, 50 Virchow, Rudolf, 105- 6 Vitruvius, 114- 15 Volk/votker: formation of(Herdcr), 53; idea in construction of German national iden tity, 55- 56; purification and renewal (Nietzsche), 62- 63; use of myths by (Herder), 53 - 54, 56; Wagner's rcconnection of myth to, 57-59 von Humboldt, Alexander, 48 Wagner, Richard, 57- 64, 210 Watthariw, 131 Wave model (Trubetzkoy), 2 12 Wclcker, G., 64 Western Destiny, ] 22 Wcsthof, Dietrich, 78 Weston, Jessie, 71 Widcngren , Geo, 73 Wikander, Stig, 73, 126 Wilkins, C harles, 83 Wolfram, Richard, 73 Works and Days (Hcsiod): interaction of days with three categories, 6-7; true speech and deception in, 4- 8; usc of logni in, 6-7 Writing: introduction in Greece, 25- 26; introduction of, 217 n. l (chap. 1); words written on paper or parchment, 26 Wlist, Walther, 73 Xenophanes, 26 - 29 Zimmer, Stefan, 213

298