chapter I

shall have occasion to return to the principle which has been formulated. At present the Callicantzari are calling.

Thus far our investigation has shown us that the Callicantzari were originally anthropomorphic, possessing indeed and exercising the power of transmutation into beast-form, but in their natural and normal form completely human in appearance. What therefore remains to be determined is whether these beings were anthropomorphic demons or simply men.

On this point there is a direct conflict of evidence at the present day. The very common tradition that the Callicantzari come from the lower world at Christmas and are driven back there by the purification at Epiphany; the fact that they are often mentioned under the vague names παγανά and ξωτικά which have already been discussed[560], and that their leader is sometimes called ὁ κουτσοδαίμονας, ‘the halting demon’; the belief that they are fond of dancing with the Nereids, and sometimes exercise also a power, proper to the Nereids, of taking away the speech of those who speak in their presence; these and other such considerations might be thought abundantly to prove that the Callicantzari were a species of demon.

But on the other hand there is equally abundant evidence of the belief that Callicantzari are men who are seized with a kind of bestial madness which often effects a beast-like alteration in their appearance. This madness is not chronic, but recurrent with each returning Christmas, and the victim of it displays for the time being all the savage and lustful passions of a wild animal. The mountaineers of South Euboea for example have acquired the reputation of being Callicantzari and are much feared by the dwellers on the coast.

A remarkable feature in this form of the superstition is the idea that the madness is congenital. Children born on Christmas-day, or according to some accounts on any day between Christmas and Epiphany, are deemed likely to become Callicantzari. This, it is naively said, is the due punishment for the sin of a mother who has presumed to conceive and to bring forth at seasons sacred to the Mother of God; whence also the children are called ἑορτοπιάσματα or ‘feast-stricken.’ In Chios, in the seventeenth century, this superstition was so strong that extraordinary methods of barbarism were adopted to render such children harmless. They were taken, says Leo Allatius[561], to a fire which had been lighted in the market-place, and there the soles of their feet were exposed to the heat until the nails were singed and the danger of their attacks obviated. A modern and modified form of this treatment is to place the child in an oven and to light a fire outside to frighten it, and then to ask the question, ‘Bread or meat?’ If the child says ‘bread,’ all is well; but if he says ‘meat,’ he is believed to be possessed by a savage craving for human flesh, and the treatment is continued till he answers ‘bread[562].’

These infant Callicantzari are particularly prone, it is said, to attack and kill their own brothers and sisters. Hence comes the by-name by which they are sometimes known, ἀδερφοφᾶδες, ‘brother-eaters,’ as also, according to Polites’ interpretation, the name κάηδες, which is an equivalent for Callicantzari in several islands of the Aegean Sea. This word Polites holds to be the plural of the name Cain, and to denote ‘brother-slayers’; but inasmuch as a longer form καϊμπίλιδες appears side by side with κάηδες in Carpathos[563], I hesitate to accept this interpretation of the one while the other remains to me wholly unintelligible. At any rate to the people themselves the word has ceased to convey any idea of murderous propensities; for in the island of Syme, where the name is in use, the beings denoted by it are held to be harmless[564].

The issue before us is well summarised in two popular traditions which Polites adduces from Oenoë and from Tenos, and which are in clear mutual contradiction. The tradition of Oenoë begins thus: ‘“Leave-us-good-sirs” (Ἀς-ἐμᾶς-καλοί) is the name which we give them (the Callicantzari), though they are really evil demons (ξωτικά).’ The tradition of Tenos opens with the words: ‘The Callicantzari are not demons (ζωτ’κά)[565]; they are men; as New Year’s Day approaches, they are stricken with a fit of madness and leave their houses and wander to and fro.’ How are we to decide which of these two traditions is the older?

The evidence in favour of either is at the present day abundant; the two chief authorities on the subject, Schmidt and Polites, both acknowledge this; and, in my own experience, I should have difficulty in saying which view of the Callicantzari I have the more frequently heard expressed. On the mainland they are most commonly demons; in the islands of the Aegean, more usually human. But in a matter of this kind it would be of no value to count heads; even if the whole population of Greece could be polled on the question, the view of the majority would have no more value than that of the minority. The issue must be decided on other than numerical grounds.

And clearly the first consideration which suggests itself must be the nature of the earliest evidence on the subject. The earliest authority then is Leo Allatius[566], and his statement is in brief as follows. Children born in the octave of Christmas are seized with a kind of madness; they rage to and fro with incredible swiftness; and their nails grow sharp like talons. To any wayfarer whom they meet they put the question ‘Tow or lead?’ If he answer ‘tow,’ he escapes unhurt; if he answer ‘lead,’ they crush him with all their power and leave him half-dead, lacerated by their talons.

Thus far the testimony of Leo Allatius distinctly favours the belief that Callicantzari are human and not demoniacal in origin; but at the same time it must be admitted that his statement was probably founded upon the particular traditions of his native island only and carries therefore less weight. The barbarous custom however which he next proceeds to describe is of some importance. He states that children born during the dangerous period between Christmas and New Year had the soles of their feet scorched until the nails were singed and so they could not become Callicantzari. Now there is a small but obvious inconsistency in this statement. Persons who scratch one another use, presumably, not their toe-nails but their finger-nails; and animals likewise employ the fore feet and not the hind feet. To scorch the feet therefore, and particularly the soles of the feet, is not a logical method of preventing the growth of talons. But on the other hand the treatment adopted might well be supposed to prevent the development of hoofs, such as in many parts of Greece the Callicantzari are still believed to have. In other words, the custom which Leo Allatius describes was not properly understood in his time. But a custom which has ceased to be properly understood and has had an inaccurate interpretation set upon it is necessarily of considerable age. Already therefore in the first half of the seventeenth century the custom which Allatius describes was of some antiquity; and the belief that children turn into Callicantzari, which is implied alike by the original meaning and by the later interpretation of the custom, was equally ancient. In Chios then at any rate the human origin of Callicantzari is a very old article of faith.

But more important for our consideration is the answer to be made to the following question; is it more probable, that Callicantzari, if they were originally demons, should have come in the belief of many people to be men, or that, being originally men, they should have assumed in the belief of many people the rank of demons? Here, if I may trust the analogy of other instances in Greek folklore, my answer is decided. I know of no case in which a demon has lost status and been reduced to human rank; but I can name three several cases in which beings originally human have been elevated to the standing of demons. The human maiden Gello was the prototype of the class of female demons now known as Gelloudes. Striges (στρίγγλαις) are properly old women who by magical means can transform themselves into birds, but they too both in mediaeval and in modern times are frequently confused with demons. ‘Arabs’ (Ἀράπηδες), as the name itself implies, were originally nothing but men of colour, but they now form, as will be shown in the next section, a recognised class of _genii_. And if we turn from modern Greek folklore to ancient Greek religion, there also we find the tendency in the same direction. There men in plenty are elevated to the rank of hero, demon, or god, but the degradation of a demon to human rank is a thing unknown. In view of this strongly marked principle of Greek superstition or religion, it is impossible to come to any other conclusion than that the Callicantzari were originally not demons but men--men who either voluntarily or under the compulsion of a kind of madness chose or were forced to assume the shape and the character of beasts.

Having thus disposed of the problem presented by the various types of Callicantzari, we must next investigate the origin of the name itself. This investigation too is not a little complicated by the fact that the dialectic varieties of the name are fully as manifold and divergent as the various shapes which the monsters are locally believed to assume. There can be few words in the Greek language which better illustrate the difference in speech between one district and another. The most general form of the word, and one which is either used side by side with other dialectic forms or at least is understood in almost every district, is the form which I have used throughout this chapter καλλικάντζαρος or, to transliterate it, Callicantzaros; but in reviewing all the dialectic varieties of the word, I find that there are only two out of the fourteen letters composing this word, which do not, in one dialect or another, suffer either modification of sound or change of position. The consonant κ in the first syllable and the vowel α in the third are the only constant and uniform elements common to all dialects.

These dialectic forms demand consideration for the reason that some of the derivations proposed take as their starting-point not the common form καλλικάντζαρος but one of the rarer by-forms--a method which is evidently open to objection when it is seen, as the accompanying table of forms will show, that καλλικάντζαρος, besides being the common and normal form, is also the centre from which all the dialectic varieties radiate in different directions. In compiling my list of forms, however, I may abbreviate it by the omission of those which are a matter of calligraphic rather than of phonetic distinction. Thus the first two syllables of καλλικάντζαρος are often written καλι- or καλη-, but since ι and η represent exactly the same sound and λλ is very seldom distinguished from λ, I have uniformly written καλλι- even where my authority for the particular form uses some other spelling. On the other hand, as regards the use of τζ or τσ, between which there is a real if somewhat subtle difference in sound, I have retained the

## particular form which I have found recorded.

Starting then from the normal form καλ-λι-κάν-τζα-ρος, which I thus dismember for convenience of reference to its five syllables, I may classify the changes which the word undergoes in various dialects as follows:

(1) The insertion of α in the second syllable, giving λι̯α in the place of λι.

(2) The prefixing of σ to the first syllable, giving σκαλ for καλ. With this Bernhard Schmidt well compares the modern σκόνη for κόνις, and σκύφτω for κύπτω.

(3) The complete suppression of the second syllable, or the retention of the ι only as a faintly pronounced y.

(4) Combined with, and consequent upon, the suppression of the second syllable, the change of λ to ρ in the first syllable, or the interchange of the λ in the first syllable with the ρ in the fifth.

(5) The loss of either ν in the third syllable or τ in the fourth.

(6) The change of the α in the first syllable to ο.

(7) The change of the α in the third syllable to ε, ι, ο, or ου. Instances of this are most frequent in combination with the changes under (4).

(8) The interchange of the κ in the third syllable with the τζ (or τσ) in the fourth. The νκ thus produced becomes γγ.

(9) The formation of diminutive neuter forms ending in -ι instead of the masculine forms in -ος, with the consequent shift of accent from the third to the fourth syllable, the -ι representing -ιον. These neuter forms occur chiefly in the plural.

Further it may be noted that the formation of the nominative plural of the masculine forms shows some variation; the ordinary form is in -οι with the accent on the antepenultimate as in the nominative singular; a second form has the same termination but with the accent shifted to the penultimate, as commonly happens in some dialects with words of the second declension (e.g. ἄνθρωπος with plural ἀνθρώποι) by assimilation to the other cases of the plural; while a third form has the anomalous termination -αῖοι (e.g. in Cephallenia, σκαλλικάντσαρος with plural σκαλλικαντσαραῖοι).

The following genealogical table exhibits the dialectic progeny of the normal form καλλικάντζαρος. The numeral or numerals placed against each form refer to the classification of phonetic changes as above. Beneath each form is noted the name of one place or district (though of course there are usually more) in which it may be heard, or, failing the _provenance_, the authority for its existence.

καλλικάντζαρος (with which καλλικάντσαρος and καλλικάντσι̯αρος (Cythnos and Melos) may be considered identical) | +--------------------+--------------+--------------------+------------------+-------------------------+--------------+ | | | | | | | καλλιακάντζαρος (1) καλλικάτζαρος (5) καλλικάνζαρος (5) σκαλλικάντζαρος (2) καλι̯κάντζαρος (3) κολλικάντζαρος (6) καλλιτσάγγαρος (8) (Πολίτης, Μελέτη, (Cyprus) (Cythera) (Ionian Islands) and καλκάντζαρος (3) (Gortynia and (Pyrgos in Tenos p. 67) | (Lesbos, etc.) Cynouria, districts and Western shores | | of the Peloponnese) of Black Sea) +---------------------+-------------------+--------------+ | | | | | | | κολλικάτζαρος (6, 5) | σκαλλικαντζούρια (τὰ) σκαλκαντσέρι (τὸ) σκαλκάντζερος | (Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, | (2, 7, 9) (Sciathos) (2, 3, 7, 9) (2, 3, 7) | II. p 1245) | (Arachova on (Arachova on | | Parnassus) Parnassus) | +------------------+-----+ | | | | καλσάγγαροι καρτσάγγαλοι (8, 4) +----------------------+-------------------------+----------+ (8, 3, 5) (Oenoë on S. shore | | | (Tenos) of Black Sea) καρκάντσαλος (4) καλκάντσερος (3, 7) καρκάντζαρος (4) (Stenimachos in (Arachova on (Scyros) Roumelia) Parnassus) | +----------------+----------+-------------------------+ | | | καρκάντζελος (4, 7) καρκάντσιλος (4, 7) καρκάντζολος (4, 7) (Zagorion in (Ophis, on S. shore (Cythnos) Epirus) of Black Sea) | | _Albanian_ καρκαντσέλια (τὰ) καρκανdσόλ-ι (4, 7, 9) (cf. Hahn, _Alban. Stud._, (Portariá on Vocabulary, s.v.) M^t Pelion) and _Turkish karakóndjolos_

This table of dialectic forms, which was originally based mainly upon the information of Schmidt[567] and my own observations and has now been enlarged with the aid of Polites’ new work[568], is even so probably far from complete; nor have I included in it, for reasons to be stated, the following forms: καλκάνια[569] (τὰ) which is apparently an abbreviated diminutive formed from the first two syllables of καλκάν-τζαρος with a neuter termination, and is therefore a nickname rather than a strict derivative: καλκαγάροι which Bent[570] represents to be the usual form in Naxos and Paros, but I hesitate to accept without confirmation from some other source: σκατσάντζαροι[571], a Macedonian form, and καλκατζόνια, a diminutive form from the district of Cynouria, both so extraordinarily corrupt that I can find no place for them in the table: λυκοκάντζαροι, which has been thought to be κολλικάντζαρος with the first two syllables reversed in order--a change to which I can find no parallel--but is, as I shall show later, a distinct and very important compound of the word κάντζαρος: and lastly καλι̯οντζῆδες[572] which has nothing at all to do with καλλικάντζαροι etymologically, but is an euphemistic and not particularly good pun upon it, really meaning the ‘sailors of a galleon[573]’ (Turkish _qālioundji_), and humorously substituted for the dreaded name of the Callicantzari.

To conclude this compilation, it must be added that the wives of Callicantzari are denoted by feminine forms with the termination -ίνα or -οῦ, and their children by neuter forms ending in -άκι or -οῦδι in place of the masculine -ος.

From a careful analysis of this material two main facts seem to emerge. First, the form καλλικάντζαρος, the commonest in use, is also the centre from which the other dialectic forms diverge in many directions; and therefore if one of the rarer dialectic forms be selected as the parent-form and the basis of any etymological explanation, the advocate of the particular etymology not only assumes the burden of showing how his original form came to be so generally superseded by the form καλλικάντζαρος, but also will require many more steps in his genealogical table of existing varieties of the word. Secondly, the words καλλικάντζαρος and λυκοκάντζαρος (if, as I hold, they cannot be connected through the mediation of the form κολλικάντζαρος) show that we have to deal with a compound word of which the second half is κάντζαρος: and corroboration of this view is afforded by the existence of a form of the uncompounded word in the dialect of Cynouria, where σκατζάρια[574] (τὰ)--i.e. a diminutive form of κάντζαρος with σ prefixed and ν lost--is used side by side with the words καλλικάντζαροι and λυκοκάντζαροι to denote the same beings.

In view of the latter inference, or perhaps even apart from it, there is no need to delay long over a derivation propounded by a Greek writer, Oeconomos, whose theory, that ‘callicantzaros’ is a corruption of the Latin ‘caligatus’ or perhaps of ‘calcatura,’ suggests a vision of a monster in hob-nailed boots which does more credit to its author’s imagination than to his knowledge of philology.

A suggestion which deserves at any rate more serious consideration is that of Bernhard Schmidt[575] who holds that the word is of Turkish origin and passed first into Albanian and thence into Greek--reversing, that is, the steps indicated in the above table. But to this there are several objections, each weighty in itself, and cumulatively overwhelming.

First, if the Turkish word _karakondjolos_ be the source from which the multitude of Greek forms, including in that case λυκοκάντζαρος[576] are derived, it ought to be shown how the Turkish word itself came to mean anything like ‘were-wolf[577].’ It is compounded, says Schmidt, of _kara_, ‘black,’ and _kondjolos_ which is connected with _koundjul_, a word which means a ‘slave of the lowest kind[578].’ But before that derivation can be accepted, it should be shown what link in thought may exist between a slave even of the lowest and blackest variety and a were-wolf, and also how the supposed Turkish compound came to have the Greek termination -ος.

Secondly, the theory that the Greeks borrowed the word, and presumably also the notion which it expressed, from the Turks contravenes historical probability. For when did the supposed borrowing take place? Evidently not before the Ottoman influence had made itself thoroughly felt in Eastern Europe not only in war but in peace; for only those peoples who are living side by side in friendly, or at the least pacific, relations, are in a way to exchange views on the subject of were-wolves or any other superstitions; and in the case of the Greeks and the Turks such intercourse would certainly have been retarded by religious as well as racial animosity. Presumably then, even if the transference of the word from the Turkish to the Greek language had been direct and not, as Schmidt somewhat unnecessarily supposes, through the medium of Albanian, two or three generations must have elapsed after the Ottoman occupation of Chios in 1566[579], and the seventeenth century must have well begun, before the Greeks of that island even began to adopt the new word and the new superstition involved in it. Yet the form of the word familiar to Leo Allatius since the beginning of that century, when he lived as a boy in Chios, was not _karakondjolos_ or anything like it, but _callicantzaros_; while the belief that children born in the octave of Christmas became Callicantzari was of such antiquity in Chios that a custom founded upon it had already come, as I have shown, to be misinterpreted. Indeed, as the same writer tells us, the Callicantzari and their haunts and habits were so familiar to the people of Chios that two proverbs of the island referred to them. One, which was addressed to persons always appearing in the same clothes--βάλλε τίποτε καινούριο ἀπάνω σου διὰ τοὺς καλλικαντζάρους, ‘put on something new because of the Callicantzari’--is more than a little obscure; it would seem to imply that the clothes which were being worn would hardly be worth the while even of the mischief-loving Callicantzari to tear; but in any case the very existence of an obscure proverb is evidence that the Callicantzaros and all his ways had long been a matter of common knowledge. The second saying--ἐκατέβης ἀπὸ τὰ τριποτάματα, ‘You have come down from the Three Streams,’ or in another version, δὲν πᾶς ’στα τριποτάματα; ‘Why not go to the Three Streams?’--was addressed to mad persons, because, as Allatius explains, ‘the Three Streams’ was a wild wooded place in Chios reputed to be the haunt of Callicantzari. Historically then the theory that the people of Chios borrowed from the Turks the name and the conception of the Callicantzari is untenable.

Another piece of historical evidence against Schmidt’s theory is that the Callicantzaros of the present day appears to be identical with the ‘baboutzicarios’ whereof Michael Psellus[580] discoursed in the eleventh century. He himself indeed, with his usual passion for explaining away popular superstitions, affirms that ‘baboutzicarios’ is the same as ‘ephialtes,’ the demon who punishes gluttony with nocturnal discomfort and a feeling of oppression; and in that view he was followed by Suidas[581] and other lexicographers; but he states two important points in the popular superstition which he combats: the ‘baboutzicarios’ appears only in the octave of Christmas; and it is at night that he meets and terrifies men. Moreover the name itself is, I suspect, derived from the Low-Latin _babuztus_[582] meaning ‘mad,’ and indicates the existence then of the belief which is so largely held to-day, that the monstrous apparitions of Christmastide are really men smitten with a peculiar kind of madness. Thus all the information which Psellus gives about the ‘baboutzicarios’ tallies with modern beliefs concerning the Callicantzaros, and militates against the supposition that the Greeks are indebted for this superstition to the Turks.

Finally there is positive evidence that the Turks borrowed the word in question from the Greeks; for the time at which they used to fear the advent of the _karakondjolos_--whether the superstition still remains the same, I do not know--was fixed not by their own calendar but by that of the Christians. An article written on the subject of the Turkish calendar early in last century contains this statement: ‘The Turks have received this fabulous belief from the Greeks, and they say that this demon, whom the former call Kara Kondjolos and the latter Cali Cangheros, exercises his sway of maleficence and mischief from Christmas-day until that of the Epiphany[583].’ Clearly the Turks would not have fixed the time for the appearance of the _karakondjolos_ by the Christian festivals if they had not borrowed the whole superstition from the Greeks; and indeed the very termination in -ος of the Turkish form of the word betrays its Hellenic origin.

The proposed Turkish derivation of the word καλλικάντζαρος must therefore be rejected as finally as Oeconomos’ Latin derivation, and it remains only to deal with those which treat the word as genuinely Greek.

The first of these is that proposed by Coraës[584], who made the word a compound of καλός and κάνθαρος. The formation, as might be expected of so great a scholar, is irreproachable; for the phonetic change of θ to τζ; is seen in the development of the modern word καντζόχοιρος (a hedgehog) from the ancient ἀκανθόχοιρος. But the meaning obtained is less satisfactory. What has a ‘good’ or ‘beautiful beetle’ to do with a Callicantzaros such as I have described? The question remains without an answer. And yet some of Coraës’ followers in recent times have thought triumphantly to vindicate his view by pointing out that in the dialect of Thessaly ‘a species of large horned beetle’ is known as καλλικάτζαροι. Now I am aware that elsewhere in Greece stag-beetles are called κατζαρίδες, which is undoubtedly a modern form of the ancient κάνθαρος and illustrates once more the phonetic change involved in Coraës’ derivation; and I can believe that the Thessalian peasantry with a certain rustic humour sometimes call them καλλικάτζαροι instead. But what light does this throw on the supposed development of meaning? The view which these disciples of Coraës appear to hold, namely that the Callicantzari, who are known and feared throughout Greek lands and even beyond them in Turkey and in Albania, were called after an alleged Thessalian species of Coleoptera, would be fitly matched by a theory that the Devil was so named after a species of fish or a printer’s assistant or a patent fire-lighter.

The same objection holds good as against Polites’ first view[585]. Taking the word λυκοκάντζαρος as his starting-point, instead of the common and central form καλλικάντζαρος, he proposed to derive the word from λύκος, ‘wolf,’ and κάνθαρος, ‘beetle.’ But though the resulting hybrid might be a monster as hideous as the worst of Callicantzari, these creatures so far as I know show no traits suggestive of entomological parentage. But since Polites himself has long abandoned this view, there is no need to criticize it further.

His next pronouncement on the subject[586] banished both wolf and beetle and seemed to recognise the necessity of keeping the main form καλλικάντζαρος to the fore. But while he naturally assumed καλός to be the first half of the compound, he could only set down κάντζαρος as an unknown foreign, perhaps Slavonic, word.

But in his latest publication[587] he relinquishes this position and falls back once more on a dialectic form καλιτσάγγαρος which is reported to be in use at the village of Pyrgos in Tenos and at some places on the western shores of the Black Sea. This word he believes to be a compound, of which the second half is connected with a Byzantine word τσαγγίον, meaning a kind of boot, and the still existing, if somewhat rare, word, τσαγγάρης, ‘a boot-maker,’ while the first half is to be either καλός, ‘fine,’ or καλίκι, ‘a hoof[588].’ The former alternative provides easily the form καλοτσάγγαρος or, as would be almost more likely, καλλιτσάγγαρος, meaning ‘one who wears fine boots’; while in the other alternative there results a supposed original form καλικοτσάγγαρος, meaning ‘one who has hoofs instead of boots,’ whence, by suppression of the third syllable, comes the existing word καλιτσάγγαρος, or again, by loss of the first syllable, a supposed form λικοτσάγγαρος which developed into λυκοκάντζαρος.

On the score of formation the former alternative is unassailable; but the latter, with its supposed loss of syllables, is more questionable. The loss of a first syllable is common enough in modern Greek, where it consists of a vowel only (e.g. βρίσκω[589] for εὑρίσκω, μέρα for ἡμέρα, etc.), but the supposed loss of the syllable κα would, I think, be hard to parallel. Again the loss of a syllable in the middle of a word is fairly common either through the suppression of the vowel ι (or η, which is not distinguished from ι in sound) as in καλκάντζαρος for καλλικάντζαρος, ἔρμος for ἔρημος, etc., or else when two concurrent syllables begin with the same consonant, as in ἀστροπελέκι, ‘a thunderbolt,’ for ἀστραποπελέκι, but the loss of the syllable κο from the form καλικοτσάγγαρος is a bold hypothesis.

But on the score of meaning both alternatives are alike unconvincing. Polites indeed cites one or two popular traditions in which the Callicantzari are represented as wearing wooden or iron shoes--wherewith no doubt the better to kick and to trample their victims; and such footgear might, I suppose, be described ironically as ‘nice boots.’ But to find in this occasional trait the origin of the word Callicantzaros[590] appears to me a counsel of despair. Nor does the other alternative commend itself to me any more. It is of course a widely accepted belief--and one by the way which contradicts the traditions just mentioned--that the Callicantzari have feet like those of an ass or a goat. But in describing such a creature no one surely would be likely to say that it had hoofs ‘instead of boots’--‘instead of feet’ would be the natural and reasonable expression. To suppose that the Callicantzari (or rather, to use the hypothetical form, the καλικοτσάγγαροι) are so named because their boot-maker provides them with hoofs instead of detachable foot-gear, is little short of ludicrous.

But though neither of the proposed derivations will, I think, win much acceptance, the historical evidence which Polites adduces in support of his views forms a valuable contribution to the study of this subject. The inferences which he draws therefrom may not be correct; but the material which he has collected is of high interest.

Singling out of the many traditions concerning the Callicantzari the widely, and perhaps universally, prevalent belief that their activities are confined to the Twelve Days between Christmas and Epiphany, he argues that if we can discover the origin of this limitation, we shall be in a fair way to discover also whence came the conception of the Callicantzari themselves.

Accordingly he traces the history of winter festivals in Greece, starting from the period in which the Greeks, in deference to their Roman masters, adopted the festivals known as the Saturnalia, the Brumalia, and the Kalándae (for so the celebration of the Kalends of January was called by the Greeks) in place of their own old festivals such as the Kronia and some of the festivals of Dionysus. The change however was more one of name than of method of observance[591]. The pagan orgies which marked these festal days were strongly denounced by the Fathers of the Church from the very earliest times. In the first century of our era, Timothy, bishop of Ephesus, met with his martyrdom in an attempt to suppress such a festival. At the end of the fourth century S. John Chrysostom and, after him, Asterios, bishop of Amasea, loudly inveighed against the celebration of the Kalandae. At the end of the seventh century the sixth Oecumenical Council of the Church promulgated a canon forbidding all these pagan winter-festivals. But still in the twelfth century, as Balsamon testifies[592], the old abuses continued unabated; and there are local survivals of such festivals at the present day.

The most prominent feature of these celebrations was that men dressed themselves up in various characters, to represent women, soldiers, or animals, and thus disguised gave themselves up to the wildest orgies. At Ephesus it is clear that these orgies included human sacrifice, and that Bishop Timothy was on one occasion the victim; for we are told by Photius that he met with his death in trying to suppress ‘the polluted and blood-stained rites of the Greeks[593]’; and the same writer speaks of τὸ καταγώγιον--so this particular ceremony was called--as a ‘devilish and abominable festival[594]’ in which men ‘took delight in unholy things as if they were pious deeds[595].’ And again another account of the same celebration tells how men with masks on their faces and with clubs in their hands went about ‘assaulting without restraint free men and respectable women, perpetrating murders of no common sort and shedding endless blood in the best parts of the city, as if they were performing a religious duty (ὡσανεὶ ἀναγκαῖόν τι καὶ ψυχωφελὲς πράττοντες)[596].’

At Amasea, according to Asterios, at the beginning of the fifth century, things were not much better. The peasants, he says, who come into the town during the festival ‘are beaten and outraged by drunken revellers, they are robbed of anything they are carrying, they have war waged upon them in a time of peace, they are mocked and insulted in word and in deed[597].’ Here too the custom of dressing up was in vogue among those who took part in the festival--women’s dress being especially affected.

Again in the seventh century the points specially emphasized by the canon of the Church are that ‘no man is to put on feminine dress, nor any woman the dress proper to men, nor yet are masks, whether comic, satyric, or tragic, to be worn’; and the penalty for disregard of this ordinance was to be excommunication. Yet for all these fulminations the old custom continued. The author of ‘the Martyrdom of S. Dasius[598],’ writing perhaps as late as the tenth century, speaks of the festival of the Kronia as still observed in the old way: ‘on the Kalends of January foolish men, following the custom of the (pagan) Greeks, though they call themselves Christians, hold a great procession, changing their own appearance and character, and assuming the guise of the devil; clothed in goat-skins and with their faces disguised,’ they reject their baptismal vows and again serve in the devil’s ranks. And still in the twelfth century these practices obtained not only among the laity but even among the clergy, some of whom, in the words of Balsamon[599], ‘assume various masks and dresses, and appear in the open nave of the church, sometimes with swords girt on and in military uniform, other times as monks or even as quadrupeds.’

Several instances of the continuance of this custom in modern times have been collected by Polites[600] and others; the savage orgies of old time have indeed dwindled into harmless mummery; but their most constant feature, the wearing of strange disguises, remains unchanged; and the occasion too is still a winter-festival, either some part of the Twelve Days or the carnival preceding Lent. From certain facts concerning these modern festivals it will be manifest that some relation exists between the mummers who celebrate them and the Callicantzari.

In Crete, where the New Year is thus celebrated, the mummers are called καμπουχέροι, while in Achaia a fuller form of the same word, κατσιμπουχέροι, is a by-name of the Callicantzari. At Portariá on Mount Pelion, each night of the Twelve Days, a man is dressed up as an ‘Arab,’ wearing an old cloak and having bells affixed to his clothes. He goes the round of the streets with a lantern; and the villagers explicitly state that this is done γιὰ τὰ καρκαντζέλια, ‘because of the Callicantzari,’ i.e., says Polites, as a means of getting rid of them. At Pharsala there is a sort of play at the Epiphany, in which the mummers represent bride, bridegroom, and ‘Arab’; the Arab tries to carry off the bride, and the bridegroom defends her. In some parts of Macedonia similar mumming takes place at the New Year; in Belbentós the men who take part in it are called ‘Arabs’; at Palaeogratsana they have the name ῥουκατζιάρια (evidently another compound of κάντζαρος, but one which I cannot interpret); formerly also ‘at Kozane and in many other parts of Greece,’ according to a Greek writer in the early part of the nineteenth century, throughout the Twelve Days boys carrying bells used to go round the houses, singing songs and having ‘one or more of their company dressed up with masks and bells and foxes’ brushes and other such things to give them a weird and monstrous look.’

This custom is evidently identical with one which I myself saw enacted in Scyros at the carnival preceding Lent. The young men of the town array themselves in huge capes made of goat-skin, reaching to the hips or lower, and provided with holes for the arms. These capes are sometimes made with hoods of the same material which cover the whole head and face, small holes being cut for the eyes but none for purposes of respiration. In other cases the cape covers the shoulders only, leaving the head free, and the young man contents himself with the blue and white kerchief, which is the usual head-gear in Scyros, and a roughly made domino. A third variety of cape is provided with a hood to cover the back of the head, while the mask for the face is made of the skin of some small animal such as a weasel, of which the hind legs and tail are attached to the hood, while the head and forelegs hang down to the breast of the wearer; eye-holes are cut in these as in the other forms of mask. These capes are girt tightly about the waist with a stout cord or strap, from which are hung all round the body a large number of bronze goat-bells, of the ordinary shape but of extraordinary dimensions, some measuring as much as ten inches for the greatest diameter. The method by which these bells are attached to the belt is remarkable, and is designed to permit a large number of them to be worn without being in any way muffled by contact with the cape. Each bell is fastened to one end of a curved and springy stick of about a foot in length, and the other end is inserted behind the belt from above; the curve and elasticity of the stick thus cause the bell to hang at some few inches distance from the body, free to jangle with every motion of the dancer. Some sixty or seventy of these bells, of various sizes, are worn by the best-equipped, and the weight of such a number was estimated by the people of the place as approximately a hundredweight--no easy load with which to dance over the narrow, roughly-paved alleys of ‘steep Scyros.’ Those however who lack either the prowess or the accoutrements to share in the glorious fatigue do not abstain altogether from the festivities; even the small boys beg, borrow, or steal a goat-bell and attach it to the hinder part of their person in lieu of a tail, or, at the worst, make good the caudal deficiency with a branch from the nearest tree.

Thus in various grades of goat-like attire the young men and boys traverse the town, stopping here and there, where the steep and tortuous paths offer a wider and more level space, to leap and dance, or anon at some friendly door to imbibe spirituous encouragement to further efforts. In the dancing itself there is nothing peculiar to this festival; the swinging amble, which is the gait of the more heavily equipped, is prescribed by the burden of bells and the roughness of roads. The purpose of the leaping and dancing is solely to evoke as much din as possible from the bells; and prodigious indeed is the jarring and jangling in those narrow alleys when the troupe of dancers leap together into the air, as high as their burdens allow, and come down with one crash.

Since I first published[601] an account of these festivities in Scyros, similar celebrations of carnival-time have been reported from other places; at Sochos in Macedonia[602] the scene is almost identical with that which I have described; in the district of Viza in Thrace a primitive dramatic performance was recently observed in which the two chief actors wore similar goat-skins, masks, and bells, and had their hands blackened[603]; and again at Kostí in the extreme north of Thrace there is mummery of the same kind[604].

A scene of the same sort was formerly enacted in Athens also during the carnival, and was known by the expressive name τὰ ταράματα (i.e. ταράγματα), ‘The Riotings.’ A man dressed up as a bear used to rush through the streets followed by a crowd of youths howling and clashing any noisy instruments that came to hand. That this ceremony was originally of a religious character is shown not only by its association with the season of Lent, but by an accessory rite performed on the same occasion. Wooden statues, actually called ξόανα as late as the time of the Greek War of Independence, were carried out in procession; and the well-being of the people was believed to be so bound up with the due performance of these rites, that even during the Revolution, when Athens was in the hands of the Turks, a native of the place is said to have returned from Aegina, whither he had fled for safety, in order to play the part of the bear and to carry out the _xoana_ for the general good[605].

The close connexion of these several modern customs, whether the occasion of them is the Twelve Days or Carnival-time, cannot be doubted. The variation of date is of old standing; for the canon of the Church, on which Balsamon[606] comments, condemns certain pagan festivals on March 1st (approximately the carnival time) along with the _Kalandae_ and _Brumalia_; and the similarity of the dresses, masks, bells, and other accoutrements proper to both occasions proves the substantial identity of the festivals.

A comparison of these allied modern customs can only lead to one conclusion. The use of the same word to denote the mummers in Crete and the Callicantzari in Achaia; the name ῥουκατζιάρια for these mummers at Palaeogratsana; the custom of blackening the face, which is clearly indicated by the employment of the name ‘Arab’ in this connexion; the monstrous and half-animal appearance produced by masks, foxes’ brushes, goat-skins, and suchlike adornments; the attempted rape of the bride by the ‘Arab’ in the play at Pharsala--all furnish contributory evidence that the mummers themselves represent Callicantzari. Only at Portariá is the significance of the custom somewhat confused; there the ‘Arab’ in his old cloak and bells has long ceased to represent a Callicantzaros, and has actually been provided with a lantern with which to scare the Callicantzari away.

The mummers then represent Callicantzari; the question which remains to be answered is whether the mumming was the cause or the effect of the belief in Callicantzari.

Polites, in support of his theory that the name Callicantzari, in its earliest form, meant either ‘wearers of nice boots’ or ‘possessors of hoofs instead of boots,’ claims that the mummers first suggested to the Greek imagination the conception of the Callicantzari (it is not indeed anywhere mentioned in the above traditions that the feet or the footgear of the mummers were in any way remarkable, but we may let that pass), and that the fear which their riotous conduct inspired in earlier times gradually elevated them in men’s minds to the rank of demons. This, he urges, is the reason why these demons are feared only during the Twelve Days, the period when such mumming was in vogue.

In confirmation of his view Polites cites some of the evidence concerning the human origin of the Callicantzari, mentioning both the fairly common belief that men turn into Callicantzari, and the rarer traditions that a Callicantzaros resumes his human shape if a torch be thrust in his face and that the transformation of men into Callicantzari can be prevented by certain means. With this evidence I have already dealt, and I agree with Polites that in it there survives a genuine record of the human origin of the Callicantzari. But of course on the further question, whether the particular men thus elevated to the dignity of demons were the mummers of Christmastide, it has no immediate bearing.

As a second piece of corroboration, he adduces another derivation hardly more felicitous than those with which I have already dealt. The word on which he tries his hand this time is καμπουχέροι or κατσιμπουχέροι--the name of the mummers in Crete and of the Callicantzari in Achaia. Here again, with a certain perversity, he selects the worse form of the two, καμπουχέροι, which is evidently a syncopated form of the other, and proceeds to derive it from the Spanish _gambujo_, ‘a mask,’ leaving the subsequent development of κατσιμπουχέροι totally inexplicable. For my own part I consider it far more probable that the word κατσιμπουχέροι is a humorously compounded name, of which the second half is the word μπουχαρί[607] (an Arabic word which has passed, probably through Turkish, into Greek) meaning ‘chimney,’ and that the whole by-name has reference simply to the common belief that Callicantzari try to extinguish the fire on the hearth and thus to gain access to the house by the chimney. As to the meaning of κατσι-, the first half of the compound, I can only hazard the conjecture that it is connected with the verb κατσιάζω, which ordinarily means to blight, to wither, to dry up, and so forth, though its passive participle, κατσιασμένος, is said by Skarlatos[608] to be applied to clothes which are ‘difficult to wash.’ If then the compound κατσιμπουχέροι is a descriptive title of the Callicantzari, meaning those who render the chimney difficult to wash, the coarse and eminently rustic humour of the allusion to their habits needs no further explanation; and it is the mummers of Crete who owe their name to the Callicantzari, not _vice versa_.

While therefore I acknowledge and appreciate to the full the value of Polites’ researches into the history of the Twelve Days, the inferences which he draws from the material collected seem to me no more sound than the derivations which they are designed to corroborate. My own interpretation of the historical facts which Polites has brought together is as follows.

The superstitions and customs connected by the modern folk with the Twelve Days are undoubtedly an inheritance from ancestors who celebrated the Brumalia and other pagan festivals at the same season of the year. These ancient festivals, though Roman in name, probably differed very little in the manner of their observance from certain old Greek festivals, chief among which was some festival of Dionysus. This is rendered probable both by the date of these festivals and by the manner of their celebration. For the worship of Dionysus was practically confined to the winter-time; at Delphi his cult superseded that of Apollo during the three winter months[609]; and at Athens the four festivals of Dionysus fell within about the same period--the rural Dionysia at the end of November or beginning of December, the Lenaea about a month later, the Anthesteria at the end of January, and the Great Dionysia at the end of February. As for the manner of conducting the Latin-named festivals, Asterios’ description of the Kalándae in the fifth century plainly attests the Dionysiac character of the orgies, and Balsamon, in the twelfth, was so convinced, from what he himself witnessed, of their Bacchanalian origin, that he actually proposed to derive the name _Brumalia_ from Βροῦμος[610] (by which he meant Βρόμιος) a surname of Dionysus.

The mumming then, which is still customary in some parts of Greece during the Twelve Days, is a survival apparently of festivals in honour of Dionysus. Further the mummers dress themselves up to resemble Callicantzari. But the worship of Dionysus presented a similar scene; ‘those who made processions in honour of Dionysus,’ says Ulpian, ‘used to dress themselves up for that purpose to resemble his companions, some in the guise of Satyrs, others as Bacchae, and others as Sileni[611].’ The mummers therefore of the present day have, it appears, inherited the custom of dressing up from the ancient worshippers of Dionysus and are their modern representatives; and from this it follows that the Callicantzari whom the modern mummers strive to resemble are to be identified with those motley companions of Dionysus whom his worshippers imitated of old.

The more closely these two identifications are examined, the more certain they will appear. Take for example Müller’s general description[612] of the celebration of Dionysus’ festivals. ‘The swarm of subordinate beings--Satyrs, Panes, and Nymphs--by whom Bacchus was surrounded, and through whom life seemed to pass from the god of outward nature into vegetation and the animal world, and branch off into a variety of beautiful or grotesque forms, were ever present to the fancy of the Greeks; it was not necessary to depart very widely from the ordinary course of ideas, to imagine that dances of fair nymphs and bold satyrs, among the solitary woods and rocks, were visible to human eyes, or even in fancy to take a part in them. The intense desire felt by every worshipper of Bacchus to fight, to conquer, to suffer, in common with him, made them regard these subordinate beings as a convenient step by which they could approach more nearly to the presence of their divinity. The custom, so prevalent at the festivals of Bacchus, of taking the disguise of satyrs, doubtless originated in this feeling, and not in the mere desire of concealing excesses under the disguise of a mask; otherwise, so serious and pathetic a spectacle as tragedy could never have originated in the choruses of these satyrs. The desire of escaping from _self_ into something new and strange, of living in an imaginary world, breaks forth in a thousand instances in these festivals of Bacchus. It is seen in the colouring the body with plaster, soot, vermilion, and different sorts of green and red juices of plants, wearing goats’ and deer skins round the loins, covering the face with large leaves of different plants; and lastly in the wearing masks of wood, bark, and other materials, and of a complete costume belonging to the character.’ To complete this description it may be added that ‘drunkenness, and the boisterous music of flutes, cymbals and drums, were likewise common to all Dionysiac festivals[613].’ Which of all these things is missing in the mediaeval or modern counterpart of the festival? The blackening of the face or the wearing of the masks, the feminine costume or beast-like disguise, the boisterous music of bells, the rioting and drunkenness--all are reproduced in the celebration of Kalandae and Brumalia or in the mumming of the Twelve Days. The mummers are the worshippers of a god, whose name however and existence they and their forefathers have long forgotten.

And again are not the Callicantzari faithful reproductions of the Satyrs and Sileni who ever attended Dionysus? Their semi-bestial form with legs of goat or ass affixed to a human trunk, their grotesque faces and goat-like ears and horns, their boisterous and mischievous merriment, their love of wine, their passion for dancing, above all in company with Nereids, the indecency of their actions and sometimes of their appearance, their wantonness and lust--all these widely acknowledged attributes of the Callicantzari proclaim them lineal descendants of Dionysus’ motley comrades.

Such is my interpretation of the facts collected by Polites, and it differs from that which he has advanced in the reversal of cause and effect. Starting from the fact that dressing up in various disguises was the chief characteristic of the Kalandae and Brumalia and is perpetuated in the mumming of the Twelve Days, but failing to carry his researches far enough back and so to discover the absolute identity of these festivals with the ancient Dionysia, he holds that the generally prevalent custom of dressing up in monstrous and horrible disguises at a given period of the year--a custom which he leaves unexplained--was the cause of the belief in the activity of monstrous and horrible demons at that period; those who had once been simply human mummers were exalted to the ranks of the supernatural, but still betrayed their origin by the possession of a name which meant either ‘wearers of nice boots’ or else ‘hoofed and not booted.’ In my view on the contrary the identity of the modern mumming with the ancient Dionysia is indisputable; and just as in ancient times the belief in the Satyrs and Sileni was the cause of the adoption of satyr-like disguises in the Dionysia, so in more recent times, when the Satyrs, Sileni, and others came to be included in the more comprehensive term Callicantzari, it was the belief in the Callicantzari which continued to cause the wearing of similar disguises during the Twelve Days.

And this interpretation of the facts explains no less adequately than that of Polites the reason why the activities of the Callicantzari are limited to the Twelve Days. That which was in ancient times the special season for the commemoration of Dionysus and his attendants has now with the very gradual but still real decline of ancient beliefs become the only season. This is natural and intelligible enough in itself; but, if a parallel be required, Greek folklore can provide one. No one will suppose that the Dryads of ancient Greece were feared during the first six days of August only, though it is likely enough that they had a special festival at that time; but in modern folklore these are the only days on which, in many parts of Greece, any survival of the Dryads’ memory can be found[614]. Moreover the identification of the Callicantzari with the Satyrs and other kindred comrades of Dionysus elucidates a modern custom which I noticed earlier in this chapter but did not then explain--the rare, but known, custom of making offerings to the Callicantzari. The sweetmeats, waffles, sausages, and even the pig’s bone which are occasionally placed in the chimney for the Callicantzari correspond, it would seem, with offerings formerly made to Dionysus and shared by his train of Satyrs. Possibly even the choice of pork (usually in the shape of sausages) or, in the more rudimentary form of the survival, of a pig’s bone, dates from the age in which the proper victim for Dionysus at the Anthesteria was a sow; but of course it may only have been determined by the fact that pork is the peasant’s Christmas fare and therefore the most ready offering at that season.

How then, it will be asked, does the conclusion here reached, namely that the Callicantzari are, in many districts, the modern representatives of the Satyrs and other kindred beings, square with that other conclusion previously drawn from another set of facts, namely that the Callicantzari were originally not demons but men who either voluntarily or under the compulsion of a kind of madness assumed the shape and the character of beasts? The reconciliation of these two apparently antagonistic conclusions depends primarily on the derivation of the name Callicantzari.

Now the conditions which in my opinion that derivation should satisfy, have already been indicated in my discussion of dialectic forms and in my criticism of the several derivations proposed by others; but it will be well to summarise them here. They are four in number.

First, the derivation of this word, as of all others, must involve only such phonetic changes as find parallels in other words of the language.

Secondly, it must recognise the commonest form καλλικάντζαρος as being also the central and original form from which the many dialectic forms in the above table have diverged.

Thirdly, it must explain this form as a compound of a word κάντζαρος--presumably with καλός. For, in dialect, there exists a word σκατζάρι, which is used as a synonym with καλλικάντζαρος and is evidently in form a diminutive of the word κάντζαρος, and likewise there exists another synonym λυκοκάντζαρος, which cannot be formed from καλλικάντζαρος by an arbitrary shuffling of syllables but is a separate compound of κάντζαρος--presumably with λύκος.

Fourthly, and consequently on the last-named condition, the word κάντζαρος, whether alone or in composition with either καλός or λύκος, must possess a meaning adequate to denote the monsters who have been described.

All these conditions are satisfied in the identification of the word κάντζαρος with the ancient word κένταυρος.

The phonetic change herein involved will, to any who are not familiar with the pronunciation of modern Greek, appear more considerable than it really is. In that pronunciation it must be remembered that the accent, which indicates the syllable on which stress is laid, is everything, and ancient quantity is nothing; and further that the ancient diphthongs _au_ and _eu_ have come to be pronounced respectively as _av_ or _af_ and _ev_ or _ef_. The change of sound in this case may therefore be fairly measured by the difference between kéndăvrŏs and kándzărŏs in British pronunciation[615]. The phonetic modifications therefore which require notice are the substitution of α for ε in the first syllable, the introduction of a ζ after the τ, and the loss of the _v_-sound before the ρ.

The change from ε to α is very common in Greek, especially (by assimilation it would seem) where the following syllable, as in the word before us, has an α for its vowel. Thus ἀλαφρός is constantly to be heard instead of ἐλαφρός (light), ἀργαλει̯ός for ἐργαλειός (a loom), ματα- for μετα- in compound verbs. The insertion of ζ (or σ) after τ is certainly a less common change, but parallels can be found for this also. The ancient word τέττιγες (grasshoppers) appears in modern Greek as τζίτζικες. A word of Latin origin[616] τεντόνω (I stretch) has an equally common by-form τσιτόνω. The classical word τύκανον (a chisel) has passed, through a diminutive form τυκάνιον, into the modern τσουκάνι. The word κεντήματα (embroideries) has a dialectic form κεντζήματα[617]. From the adjective μουντός (grey, brown, dusky) are formed substantives μουντζοῦρα and μουντζαλι̯ά (a stain or daub). The substantive κατσοῦφα (sulkiness, sullenness) is probably to be identified with the ancient κατήφεια. The two most frequently employed equivalents for ‘mad’ or ‘crazy’--τρελλός and ζουρλός--are probably of kindred origin--an insertion of ζ in the former having produced first τζερλός and thence (τ)ζουρλός. Finally there is some likelihood that the word κάντζαρος, in a botanical sense in which it is now used, is to be identified with the ancient plant-name κενταυρεῖον or κενταύριον. The former indeed now denotes a kind of juniper, while the later is of course our ‘centaury’; but this difference in meaning is not, I think, fatal to the identification of the words. At the present day the common-folk are extraordinarily vague in their nomenclature of natural objects. In travelling about I made a practice of asking my guides and others the names of flowers and birds and suchlike; and my general experience might fairly be summed up by saying that the average peasant divides all birds which he does not eat into two classes; the larger ones are hawks, and the smaller are--‘little birds, God knows what’; and an accompanying shrug of the shoulders indicates that the man does not care; while most flowers can be called either violets or gilly-flowers at pleasure. Even therefore when a peasant of superior intelligence knows that κάντζαρος is now the name of a kind of juniper, it does not follow that that name has always belonged to it, and has not been transferred to it from some plant formerly used, let us say, for a like purpose. In this case it is known that both juniper and some kind of centaury were formerly used for medicating wine[618], and the wine treated with either was prescribed as ‘good for the stomach[619].’ Hence a confusion of the two plants is intelligible enough among a peasantry not distinguished by a love of botanical accuracy. But I place no reliance upon this possible identification; the cases previously cited furnish sufficient analogies.

Further it may be noted that in the first two examples of this insertion of ζ or σ a certain change in the consonants of the next syllable accompanies it. The γ in τέττιγες becomes κ, the ντ in τεντόνω is reduced to τ. In the same way, it seems, when ζ was inserted after the τ of κένταυρος, the sound of _vr_ was reduced to _r_ only, though certainly the loss of the _v_-sound might have occurred, apart from any such predisposing modification, as in the common word ξέρω (I know) for ἠξεύρω.

Since then the etymological conditions of the problem are satisfied by the identification of the word κάντζαρος with the ancient κένταυρος, it remains only to show that the name of ‘Centaurs’ fitly belongs to the monsters whom I have described; and my contention will be that the simple word κάντζαρος, ‘Centaur,’ surviving now only in the dialectic diminutive form σκατζάρι, adequately expresses every sort and condition of Callicantzaros that has been depicted; that καλλικάντζαρος, the general word, of which so many dialectic varieties occur, being simply an euphemistic compound of κάντζαρος with καλός such as we have previously seen in the title καλλικυρᾶδες given to the Nereids, expresses precisely the same meaning as the simple word κάντζαρος, ‘Centaur’; and that λυκοκάντζαρος originally denoted one species only of the genus Centaur, namely a Callicantzaros whose animal traits were those of a wolf.

What then did the ancients mean by the word ‘centaur’?

The mention of the name is apt to carry away our minds to famous frieze or pediment, where in one splendidly impossible creation of art the excellences of man, his head and his hands, are wed with the horse’s strength and speed. This was the species of Centaur which the great sculptors and painters in the best period of Greek Art chose to depict, and these among educated men became the Centaurs _par excellence_. Yet even so it was not forgotten that they formed only one species, and were strictly to be called ἱπποκένταυροι, ‘horse-centaurs.’ Moreover two other species of Centaur are named in the ancient language, ἰχθυοκένταυροι or fish-centaurs, and ὀνοκένταυροι or ass-centaurs. Of the former nothing seems to be known beyond the mere name, but this matters little inasmuch as they can assuredly have contributed nothing to the popular conception of the wholly terrestrial Callicantzari. The ass-centaurs will prove of more interest.

But the list of ancient species of Centaur does not really stop here. No other compounds of the word Centaur may exist, but none the less there were other Centaurs--other creatures, that is, of mixed human and animal form. Chief among these were the Satyrs, who as pourtrayed by early Greek art might equally well have been called ‘hippocentaurs,’ and in the presentations of Greco-Roman art deserved the name, if I may coin it, of ‘tragocentaurs.’ And the Greeks themselves recognised this fact. ‘The evidence of the coins of Macedonia,’ says Miss Jane Harrison[620], ‘is instructive. On the coins of Orreskii, a centaur, a horse-man, bears off a woman in his arms. At Lete close at hand, with a coinage closely resembling in style, fabric, weight the money of the Orreskii and other Pangaean tribes, the type is the same in _content_, though with an instructive difference of form--a naked Satyr or Seilenos with the hooves, ears and tail of a horse seizes a woman round the waist.... This interchange of types, Satyr and Centaur, is evidence about which there can be no mistake. Satyr and Centaur, slightly diverse types of the horse-man, are in essence one and the same.’ Nor was the recognition of this fact confined to Macedonia. A famous picture by Zeuxis, representing the domestic life of Centaurs, with a female Centaur (a creature about as rare as a female Callicantzaros) suckling her young, pourtrayed her in most respects, apart from her sex, conventionally, but gave her the ears of a Satyr[621]. And reversely Nonnus ventured to describe the ‘shaggy Satyrs’ as being, ‘by blood, of Centaur-stock[622].’ In view then of this close bond between the two types of half-human half-animal creatures, it would be natural that, when the specific name Satyr was lost, as it has been lost, from the popular language, while the generic term Centaur survived in the form Callicantzaros, the Satyrs should have been amalgamated with those who from of old had professed and called themselves Centaurs; and with the Satyrs, I suppose, went also the Sileni.

Thus the word Centaur, in spite of the narrowing tendencies of Greek art which selected the hippocentaur as the ideal type, was always comprehensive in popular use, and perhaps became even wider in scope as time went on and the distinctive appellations of Satyrs and suchlike were forgotten; but it is also possible that from the very earliest times the distinction between Satyrs and Centaurs was merely an artistic and literary convention, and that in popular speech the name Centaur was applied to both without discrimination. But it does not really concern us to argue at length the question whether the common-folk in antiquity never distinguished, or, having once distinguished, subsequently confused the Satyrs and the Centaurs. It is just worth noticing that it was in art of the Greco-Roman period, so far as I can discover, that horse-centaurs first began to be represented along with Satyrs and Sileni in the _entourage_ of Dionysus; and if this addition to the conventional treatment of such scenes was made, as seems likely, in deference to popular beliefs, the date by which the close association of the two classes was an accomplished fact and confusion of them therefore likely to ensue is approximately determined.

At some date therefore probably not later than the beginning of our era, the generic name of Centaur comprised several species of half-human, half-animal monsters, of whom the best known were horse-centaurs, ass-centaurs, Satyrs, and Sileni; and each of these species, it will be seen, has contributed something to one or other of the many types of the modern Centaurs, the Callicantzari.

The horse-centaur, which was the favourite species among the artists of ancient times, has curiously enough had least influence upon the modern delineation of Callicantzari. The only attribute which they seem to have received chiefly from this source is the rough shaggy hair with which they are usually said to be covered; ‘shaggy’ is Homer’s epithet for the Centaurs[623], and the hippocentaurs of later art retained the trait; for it is specially noted by Lucian that in Zeuxis’ picture the male hippocentaur was shaggy all over, the human part of him no less than the equine[624].

The ass-centaur on the contrary is rarely mentioned by ancient writers, but has contributed largely to some presentments of the Callicantzari. Aelian mentions the name, in the feminine form ὀνοκενταύρα, but the monster to which he applies it, although true to its name in that the upper part of its body is human and the lower part asinine, is not a creation of superstitious fancy, but, as is evident from other facts which he mentions, some species of ape known to him, none too accurately, from some traveller’s tale. The _locus classicus_ on the subject of genuine supernatural ass-centaurs is a passage in the Septuagint translation of Isaiah[625]: καὶ συναντήσουσιν δαιμόνια ὀνοκενταύροις καὶ βοηθήσονται ἕτερος πρὸς τὸν ἕτερον, ἐκεῖ ἀναπαύσονται ὀνοκένταυροι εὑρόντες αὑτοῖς ἀνάπαυσιν--‘And demons shall meet with ass-centaurs and they shall bring help one to another; there shall ass-centaurs find rest for themselves and be at rest.’ Here our Revised Version runs:--“The wild beasts of the desert shall meet with the wolves (_Heb._ ‘howling creatures’), and the satyr shall cry to his fellow; yea, the night-monster shall settle there.” The comparison is instructive. It is clear from the context that the Septuagint translators were minded to give some Greek colouring to their rendering even at the expense of strict accuracy; for in the previous verse, where our Revised Version employs the word ‘jackals,’ the Septuagint introduces beings whose voices are generally supposed to have been more attractive, the Sirens. The use of the word ‘ass-centaurs’ cannot therefore have been prompted by any pedantic notions of literal translation. The creatures, for all the lack of other literary warranty, must have been familiar to the popular imagination. And what may be gleaned from the passage concerning their character? Apparently they are the nearest Greek equivalent for ‘howling creatures’ and for ‘night-monsters’; and such emphasis in the Greek is laid upon the statement that they will ‘find rest for themselves and be at rest,’ that they must surely in general have borne a character for restlessness. These restless noisy monsters of the night, in shape half-human and half-asinine, are clearly in character no less than in form the prototypes of some modern Callicantzari.

Of the many traits inherited by the Callicantzari from the Satyrs and Sileni, the usual comrades of Dionysus, I have already spoken. So far as outward appearance is concerned, the Satyrs as they came to be pourtrayed in the later Greek art are clearly responsible for the goat-type so common in the description of the Callicantzari, while a reminiscence of the Sileni may perhaps be traced in the rarer bald-headed type. But as regards their manner of life, which as I have shown bears many resemblances to that of the Satyrs--their boisterous merriment and rioting, their love of wine, their violence, and their lewdness--these traits cannot of course be referred to the Satyrs any more than to the hippocentaurs or for that matter to the onocentaurs who were probably no more sober or chaste than their kindred. Rather it was the common possession of these qualities by the several types of half-human and half-bestial monsters that allowed them to be grouped together under the single name of Callicantzari.

Thus the conclusion drawn from an historical survey of those ancient festivals which are now represented by the Twelve Days, namely that the Callicantzari are the modern representatives of Dionysus’ monstrous comrades, is both corroborated and amplified by the etymological identification of the Callicantzari (or in the simple and unadorned form, the σκατζάρια) with the Centaurs, of whom the Satyrs and the Sileni are species.

The remaining modern name on which I have to touch readily explains itself in the light of what has already been said. If the word κάντζαρος is the modern form of κένταυρος, and if by the name ‘Centaur’ was denoted a being half-human and half-animal both in shape and in character, then the name λυκοκάντζαρος clearly should mean a creature half-man half-wolf, such as the ancients might have called a lycocentaur, but did actually name λυκάνθρωπος. Lycocantzaros then etymologically should mean the werewolf--a man transformed either by his own power or by some external influence into a wolf.

The idea of lycanthropy has probably been familiar to the peasants of Greece continuously from the earliest ages down to the present day, either surviving traditionally like so many other beliefs, or possibly stimulated by actual experiences; for lycanthropy is not a mere figment of the imagination, but is a very real and terrible form of madness, under the influence of which the sufferer believes himself transformed (and by dress or lack of it tries to transfigure himself) into a wolf or other wild animal, and in that state develops and satisfies a craving for human flesh. Outbreaks of it were terribly frequent in the east of Europe during the Middle Ages, especially among the Slavonic populations; and it is not likely that Greece wholly escaped this scourge. But whether the idea received some such impetus or no, it was certainly known to the ancient Greeks, and is not wholly forgotten at the present day. This was curiously betrayed by some questions put to an American archaeologist by an Arcadian peasant. Among the items of falsehood vended as news by the Greek press he had seen, but owing to the would-be classical style had failed to understand, certain allegations concerning the cannibalistic habits of Red Indians; and the points on which he sought enlightenment were, first, whether they ran on all fours, and, secondly, whether they went naked or wore wolf-skins. In effect the only form of savagery familiar to his mind was that of the werewolf.

Now here, it might be thought, is the clue by which to explain the first conclusion which we reached, namely, that the Callicantzari were originally men capable of transformation into beasts. The name λυκοκάντζαρος or werewolf, it might be urged, involved the idea of such transformation; and the idea originally associated with the one species was extended to the whole tribe of Callicantzari. At first sight such an explanation is attractive and appears tenable; but maturer consideration compels me to reject it.

In the first place, although the word λυκοκάντζαρος cannot etymologically have meant anything but werewolf when it was first employed, at the present day in the few districts where the name may be heard, in Cynouria, in Messenia, and, so far as I can ascertain, in Crete, it involves no idea of the transformation of men into beasts; it is merely a variant form for καλλικάντζαρος and in no way distinguished from it in meaning, and the Callicantzari in those districts are demons of definite hybrid form, not men temporarily transformed into beasts. And conversely in the Cyclades and other places where the belief in this transformation of men is prevalent, the compound λυκοκάντζαρος seems to be unknown, and καλλικάντζαρος (or some dialectic form of the same word) is in vogue. Since then in many places where the generic name Callicantzari is alone in use, the human origin of these monsters is maintained, while in those few districts where the specific name Lycocantzari is also used that human origin is denied, it is hard to believe that in this respect the surviving ideas concerning the genus can be the outcome of obsolete ideas concerning the species.

Secondly, if for the sake of argument it be granted that the Callicantzari had always been demons, how came the werewolf, the λυκάνθρωπος, whose very name proved him half-human, to change that name to λυκοκάντζαρος? How came a man who occasionally turned into a wolf to be classified as one species in a genus of beings who _ex hypothesi_ were not human even in origin, but demoniacal? We should have to suppose that the peasants of that epoch in which the change of name occurred did not distinguish between men and demons--which, as Euclid puts it, is absurd; wherefore the supposition that the Callicantzari had always been regarded as demons until werewolves were admitted to their ranks cannot be maintained. Rather the point of resemblance between the earliest Callicantzari and werewolves, which made the amalgamation of them possible, must have been the belief that both alike were men transformed into animals.

Since then the belief in the metamorphosis of men into Callicantzari existed before that epoch--a quite indeterminate epoch, I am afraid--in which the word λυκάνθρωπος fell into desuetude[626] and was replaced by λυκοκάντζαρος, where are we to look for the origin of the idea?

Since the Callicantzari bear the name of the Centaurs, it is obvious that the enquiry must be carried yet further back, and that the ancient ideas concerning the Centaurs’ origin must be investigated. Pindar touches often upon the Centaur-myths; what view did he take of the Centaurs’ nature? Were they divine in origin or human? We shall see that he held no settled view on the subject. Both traditions concerning the origin of the Centaurs were familiar to him just as both traditions still prevail in modern accounts of the Callicantzari; sometimes he follows the one, sometimes the other. On the one hand the Centaur Chiron is consistently described as divine. ‘Fain would I,’ says Pindar[627], ‘that Chiron ... wide-ruling scion of Cronos the son of Ouranos were living and not gone, and that the Beast of the wilds were ruling o’er the glens of Pelion’; and again he names him ‘Chiron son of Cronos[628]’ and ‘the Beast divine[629].’ In Pindar’s view Chiron, be he Beast or God, is certainly not human; and if he is once named by the same poet ‘the Magnesian Centaur[630],’ the epithet need only perhaps declare his habitation. His divinity is plainly asserted, and the legend that he resigned the divine guerdon of immortality in order to deliver Prometheus accords with Pindar’s doctrine.

But on the other hand the story of Ixion as told by Pindar reveals another tradition. Ixion himself was human; for his presumptuous sin of lusting after the wife of Zeus ‘swiftly he suffered as he, mere man, deserved, and won a misery unique[631].’ The son of Ixion therefore by a nebulous mother could not be divine. The cloud wherewith in his delusion he had mated ‘bare unto him, unblest of the Graces, a monstrous son, a thing apart even as she, with no rank either among men or where gods have their portion; him she nurtured and named Centauros; and he in the dales of Pelion did mate with Magnesian mares, and thence there sprang a wondrous warrior-tribe like unto both their parents--like to their dams in their nether parts, and the upper frame their sire’s[632].’ The first Centaur then, the founder of the race, though only half-human in origin, was in no respect divine. How then came Chiron, one of that race, to be divine? The two traditions are inconsistent. Pindar as a poet was not troubled thereby; he chose now the one, now the other, for his art to embroider. But in the science of mythology the discrepancy of the two traditions is important. Once more we must carry our search further back--to Hesiod and to Homer.

The former, in placing the battle of the Lapithae and the Centaurs among the scenes wrought on the shield of Heracles[633], says never a word to suggest that either set of combatants were other than human; the contrast between them lies wholly in the weapons they use. The Lapithae have their leaders enumerated, Caineus, Dryas, Pirithous, and the rest; the Centaurs in like manner are gathered about their Chieftains, ‘huge Petraeos and Asbolos the augur and Arctos and Oureios and black-haired Mimas and the two sons of Peukeus, Perimedes and Dryalos.’ The account reads like a description of a fight between two tribes, one of them equipped with body-armour and using spears, the other more primitive and armed only with rude wooden weapons.

To this representation of the Centaurs Homer also, in the _Iliad_, consents; for, though he names them Pheres or ‘Beasts,’ it is quite clear that this is the proper name of a tribe of men--men who dwelt on Mount Pelion and were hardly less valiant than the heroes who conquered them. ‘Never saw I,’ says Nestor, ‘nor shall see other such men as were Pirithous and Dryas, shepherd of hosts, and Caineus and Exadios and godlike Polyphemus and Theseus, son of Aegeus, like unto the immortals. Mightiest in sooth were they of men upon the earth, and against mightiest fought, even the mountain-haunting Pheres, and fearfully they did destroy them[634].’ And again we hear how Pirithous ‘took vengeance on the shaggy Pheres, and drave them forth from Pelion to dwell nigh unto the Aethices[635].’ Apart from the name ‘Pheres,’ which will shortly be examined, there is nothing in these passages any more than in that of Hesiod to suggest that the conflict of the Lapithae and the Centaurs means anything but the destruction or expulsion of a primitive and wild mountain-tribe by a people who, in the wearing of body-armour, had advanced one important step in material civilisation. Yet in some respects the tribe of Centaurs were, according to Homer, at least the equals of their neighbours; for Chiron, ‘the justest of the Centaurs[636],’ was the teacher both of the greatest warrior, Achilles[637], and of the greatest physician, Asclepios[638]. The only passage of Homer which has been held to imply that the Centaurs were not men comes not from the _Iliad_ but from the _Odyssey_[639]--ἐξ οὗ Κενταύροισι καὶ ἀνδράσι νεῖκος ἐτύχθη--which Miss Harrison[640] translates ‘Thence ’gan the feud ’twixt Centaurs and mankind,’ inferring therefrom the non-humanity of the Centaurs. It is however legitimate to take the word ἀνδράσι in a stricter sense, and to render the line, ‘Thence arose the feud between Centaurs and heroes,’ to wit, the heroes Pirithous, Dryas, and others; and the inference is then impaired. But in any case the _Iliad_, the earlier authority, consistently depicts both Chiron and the other Centaurs as human. The tradition of a divine origin must have arisen between the date of the _Iliad_ and the time of Pindar, and from then until now popular opinion must have been divided on the question whether the Centaurs, the Callicantzari, were properly men or demons. But one part of the conclusion at which we first arrived, namely that Callicantzari were originally men, is justified by Homer’s and Hesiod’s testimony.

What then of the other part of that conclusion? There is ancient proof that the Callicantzari were originally men; but what witness is there to the metamorphosis of those men into beasts? The Centaurs’ alternative name, Pheres.

An ethnological explanation of this name has recently been put forward by Prof. Ridgeway[641]. Concluding from the evidence of the _Iliad_ that ‘the Pheres are as yet nothing more than a mountain tribe and are not yet conceived as half-horse half-man,’ he points out, on the authority of Pindar, that Pelion was the country of the Magnetes[642] and that Chiron not only dwelt in a cave on Pelion, but is himself called a Magnete[643]. ‘It is then probable,’ he continues[644], ‘that the Centaur myth originated in the fact that the older race (the Pelasgians) had continued to hold out in the mountains, ever the last refuge of the remnants of conquered races. At first the tribes of Pelion may have been friendly to the (Achaean) invader who was engaged in subjugating other tribes with whom they had old feuds; and as the Norman settlers in Ireland gave their sons to be fostered by the native Irish, so the Achaean Peleus entrusted his son to the old Chiron. Nor must it be forgotten that conquering races frequently regard the conquered both with respect and aversion. They respect them for their skill as wizards, because the older race are familiar with the spirits of the land.... On the other hand, as the older race have been driven into the most barren parts of the land, and are being continually pressed still further back, and have their women carried off, they naturally lose no opportunity of making reprisals on their enemies, and sally forth from their homes in the mountains or forests to plunder and in their turn to carry off women. The conquering race consequently regard the aborigines with hatred, and impute to them every evil quality, though when it is necessary to employ sorcery they will always resort to one of the hated race.’

Then follow a series of instances from various parts of the world which amply justify this estimate of the relations between conquerors and conquered. But in applying the principle thus obtained to the case of the Centaurs Prof. Ridgeway goes a little further. ‘As it is therefore certain that aboriginal tribes who survive in mountains and forests are considered not only possessed of skill in magic, but as also bestial in their lusts, _and are even transformed into vipers and wild beasts by the imagination of their enemies_, we may reasonably infer from the Centaur myth that the ancient Pelasgian tribes of Pelion and Ossa had been able to defy the invaders of Thessaly, and that they had from the remotest times possessed these mountains.

‘We can now explain why they are called Pheres, Centauri and Magnetes. Scholars are agreed in holding that Pheres (φῆρες) is only an Aeolic form for θῆρες, “wild beasts.” Such a name is not likely to have been assumed by the tribe itself, but is rather an opprobrious term applied to them by their enemies. Centauri was probably the name of some

## particular clan of Magnetes[645].’

Prof. Ridgeway then, as I understand, believes the Centauri to have been named Pheres or ‘Beasts’ by their enemies because they were bestial in character, and supports his view by the statement which I have italicised. On this point I join issue.

First, the phrase in question is based upon one only out of the many instances which he adduces as evidence of the relations between invaders and aborigines--and that the most dubious, for it depends upon a somewhat arbitrary interpretation of a passage[646] of Procopius. ‘He wrote,’ says Prof. Ridgeway[647], ‘in the sixth century of Britain thus: “The people who in old time lived in this island of Britain built a great wall, which cut off a considerable portion of it. On either side of this wall the land, climate and everything are different. For the district to the east of the wall enjoys a healthy climate, changing with the seasons, being moderately warm in summer and cool in winter. It is thickly inhabited by people who live in the same way as other folk.” After enumerating its natural advantages he then proceeds to say that “On the west of the wall everything is quite the opposite; so that, forsooth, it is impossible for a man to live there for half-an-hour. Vipers and snakes innumerable and every kind of wild beast share the possession of that country between them; and what is most marvellous, the natives say that if a man crosses the wall and enters the district beyond it, he immediately dies, being quite unable to withstand the pestilential climate which prevails there, and that any beasts that wander in there straightway meet their death.”

‘There seems little doubt that the wall here meant is the Wall of Hadrian, for the ancient geographers are confused about the orientation of the island.

‘It is therefore probable that the vipers and wild beasts who lived beyond the wall were nothing more than the Caledonians, nor is it surprising to learn that a sudden death overtook either man or beast that crossed into their territory.’

That a native British statement made in the sixth century to the effect that the country beyond Hadrian’s wall was pestilential in climate and infested with vipers, snakes, and wild beasts, should be considered as even probable evidence that either the Romans or the natives of Britain regarded the Caledonians as noxious animals, is to me surprising. The question whether the Centaurs were called Pheres because of their bestial repute among neighbouring tribes must be decided independently of that inference and on its own merits.

Secondly then, was there anything bestial in the conduct of the Centaurs, as known to Homer, which could have won for them the name of ‘Beasts’? All that ancient mythology tells of their conduct may be briefly summarised; they fought with the men and carried off the women of neighbouring tribes, and occasionally drank wine to excess. Were the Achaeans then such ardent abstainers that they dubbed those who indulged too freely in intoxicants ‘Beasts’? Did the invaders of Greece and the assailants of Troy hold fighting so reprehensible? Or was it the Centaurs’ practice of carrying off the women of their enemies which convicted them of ‘bestial lust’? In all ages surely _humanum est errare_, but in that early age the practice was not only human but manly; the enemy’s womenfolk were among the rightful prizes of a raid. There is nothing then in mythology to warrant the belief that the Centaurs’ moral conduct was such as to win for them, in that age, the opprobrious name of ‘Beasts.’

And here Art supports Mythology; for clearly the representation of the Centaurs in semi-animal form cannot be dissociated from their name of Pheres; the same idea must lie at the root of both. If then the name Pheres was given to the Centaurs because of their violence or lust, the animal portion of them in the representations of early Greek Art should have been such as to express one or both of those qualities. But what do we find? In discussing the development of the horse-centaur in art, Miss Harrison[648] points out that though in horse-loving Athens, by the middle of the fifth century B.C., the equine element predominated in the composite being, ‘in archaic representations the reverse is the case. The Centaurs are in art what they are in reality, _men_ with men’s legs and feet, but they are shaggy mountain-men with some of the qualities and habits of beasts; so to indicate this in a horse-loving country they have the hind-quarters of a horse awkwardly tacked on to their human bodies.’ Now the particular ‘qualities and habits of beasts,’ if such there be, in the Centaurs must be their violence and lust. Are these then adequately symbolised by ‘the hind-quarters of a horse awkwardly tacked on to their human bodies’? In scenes of conflict, in the archaic representations, it is the human part of the Centaur which bears the brunt of the fight, and the weapon used is a branch of a tree, the primitive human weapon; the Centaur fights as a man fights. If he had been depicted with horns or teeth or claws as his weapons of offence, then the animal part of him would fairly symbolise his bestial violence; but who could discover a trace of pugnacity in his equine loins and rump, hind legs and tail? Or again if pugnacity is not the particular quality which caused the Centaurs to be named ‘Beasts’ and to be pourtrayed in half-animal form, is it their lewdness which art thus endeavoured to suggest? Surely, if the early artists had understood that the name Pheres was a contemptuous designation of a tribe bestial in their lust, Greek taste was not so intolerant of ithyphallic representations that they need have had recourse to so cryptic a symbol as the hind-quarters of a horse. But if it be supposed that, while a sense of modesty, unknown to later generations, deterred those early artists from a more obvious method of expressing their meaning, the idea of the Centaurs’ lewdness was really present to their minds, then Chiron too falls under the same condemnation and is tainted with the same vice as the rest. ‘A black-figured vase,’ says Prof. Ridgeway, _à propos_ of the virtues, not of the vices, of this one Centaur, ‘shows the hero (Peleus) bringing the little Achilles to Chiron, who is depicted as a venerable old man with a white beard and clad in a long robe from under the back of which issues the hinder part of a diminutive pony, the equine portion being a mere adjunct to the complete human figure[649].’ So far then as the animal part is concerned, the representation of Chiron in early art differs no whit from that of other Centaurs, and the quality, which is symbolised by the equine adjunct in these, is imputed to him also. Yet to convict of bestial lust the virtuous Chiron, the chosen teacher of great heroes, is intolerable. In effect, no explanation of the name Pheres in mythology and of the biform representation of the Centaurs in art can be really satisfactory which does not reckon with Chiron, the most famous and ‘the most just’ of the Centaurs, as well as with the rest of the tribe. Some characteristic common to them all--and therefore not lust or any other evil passion--must be the basis of any adequate interpretation of the name ‘Beasts.’

If then the name Pheres cannot have been an opprobrious term applied to the Pelasgian tribe of Centauri by the Achaean invaders in token of their lusts or other evil qualities, can it have been a term of respect? It may not now sound a respectful title; but in view of that ethnological principle which Prof. Ridgeway enunciates, namely ‘that conquering races frequently regard the conquered both with respect and aversion,’ the enquiry is worth pursuing. The principle itself seems to me well established; it is only his application of it in the particular case of the Centaurs to which I have demurred.

The conquering race, he shows, are apt to respect the conquered for their skill as wizards. This certainly holds true in the case before us. Chiron was of high repute in the arts of magic and prophecy. It was from him that Asclepios learned ‘to be a healer of the many-plaguing maladies of men; and thus all that came unto him whether plagued with self-grown sores or with limbs wounded by the lustrous bronze or stone far-hurled, or marred by summer heat or winter cold--these he delivered, loosing each from his several infirmity, some with emollient spells and some by kindly potions, or else he hung their limbs with charms, or by surgery he raised them up to health[650].’ And it was Chiron too to whom Apollo himself resorted for counsel, and from whom he learned the blissful destiny of the maiden Cyrene[651]. Nor was Chiron the only exponent of such arts among the Centaurs; for Hesiod names also Asbolos as a diviner.

If then the tribe of Centaurs enjoyed a reputation for sorcery, could this have won for them the name of ‘Beasts’? Can it have been that, in the exercise of their magic powers, they were believed able to transform themselves into beasts?

Within the limits of Greek folk-lore we have already once encountered such a belief, namely in the case of the ‘Striges,’ old witches capable of turning themselves into birds of prey; and in the folk-lore of the world at large the idea is extremely frequent. There is no need to encumber this chapter with a mass of recorded instances; the verdict of the first authority on the subject is sufficient. According to Tylor[652], the belief ‘that certain men, by natural gift or magic art, can turn for a time into ravening wild beasts’ is ‘a widespread belief, extending through savage, barbaric, classic, oriental, and mediaeval life, and surviving to this day in European superstition.’ ‘The origin of this idea,’ he says, ‘is by no means sufficiently explained,’ but he notes that ‘it really occurs that, in various forms of mental disease, patients prowl shyly, long to bite and destroy mankind, and even fancy themselves transformed into wild beasts.’ Whether such cases of insanity are the cause or the effect of the belief, he does not determine; but he adds, what is most important to the present issue, that ‘professional sorcerers have taken up the idea, as they do any morbid delusion, and pretend to turn themselves and others into beasts by magic art’; and, later on[653], citing by way of illustration a passage of the _Eclogues_[654], in which Vergil ‘tells of Moeris as turning into a wolf by the use of poisonous herbs, as calling up souls from the tombs, and as bewitching away crops,’ he points out that in the popular opinion of Vergil’s age ‘the arts of the werewolf, the necromancer or “medium,” and the witch, were different branches of one craft.’

If then the Centaurs were a tribe of reputed sorcerers and also obtained the secondary name of ‘Beasts,’ the analogy of worldwide superstitions suggests that the link between these two facts is to be found in their magical power of assuming the shape of beasts.

What particular beast-shape the Centaurs most often affected need not much concern us. The analogy, on which my interpretation of the name Pheres rests, makes certainly for some shape more terrifying than that of a horse; and the word φῆρες itself also denotes wild and savage beasts rather than domestic animals. But the horse-centaur, though it monopolised art, was not the only form of centaur known, nor, if we may judge from modern descriptions of the Callicantzari, had it so firm a hold on the popular imagination as some other types. Possibly its very existence is due only to the aesthetic taste of a horse-loving people. Pindar certainly knew of one Centaurus earlier in date and far more monstrous than the horse-centaurs which artists chose to depict, and provided a genealogy accordingly. Moreover in the passage of Hesiod which I have quoted above and which, by its agreement with the _Iliad_ as to the human character of the Centaurs, is proved to embody an early tradition, there is at least a suggestion of a more savage form assumed by the Centaurs. Several of their names in that passage[655] seem to indicate various qualities and habits which they possessed. One is called Petraeos, because the Centaurs lived in rocky caves or because they hurled rocks at their foes; another is Oureios, because they were a mountain-tribe; then there are the two sons of Peukeus, so named because the Centaurs’ weapons were pine-branches. And why is another named Arctos? Is it not because the Centaurs assumed by sorcery the form of bears? There is some probability then that the equine type of Centaur, the conventional Centaur of Greek Art, was a comparatively late development, and that the remote age which gave to the Centaurs the name of Pheres believed rather that that tribe of sorcerers were wont to transform themselves into the more monstrous and terrible shapes of bears and other wild beasts.

But if the particular animal which Greek artists selected as a component part of their Centaurs is thus of minor importance, the fact that their Centaurs were always composite in conception, always compounded of the human and the animal, is highly significant. In discussing the various types of Callicantzari in various parts of Greece, we found that, where there exists a belief in their power of metamorphosis, they are stated to appear in single and complete shapes, while, where the belief in their transformation is unknown, they are represented in composite shapes; and having previously concluded that the belief in their metamorphosis was a genuine and original factor in the superstition, we were led to formulate the principle, that a being of some single, normal, and known shape who has originally been believed capable of transforming himself into one or more other single, normal, and known shapes, comes to be represented, when the belief in his power of transformation dies out, as a being of composite, abnormal, and fantastic shape, combining incongruous features of the several single, normal, and known shapes. Now the horse-centaur of Greek Art is a being of composite, abnormal, and fantastic shape, combining incongruous features of man and animal. If then the principle based on facts of modern Greek folk-lore may be applied to the facts of ancient Greek folk-lore, the horse-centaur of Greek Art replaced a completely human Centaur capable of transforming himself into completely animal form.

Moreover I am inclined to think that such a development was likely to occur in the representations of art even more readily than in verbal descriptions. For even if the artist belonged to an age which had not yet forgotten that the Centaurs were human beings capable of turning themselves by sorcery into beasts, how was he to distinguish the Centaur in his picture either from an ordinary man, if the Centaur were in his ordinary human shape, or from a real animal, if the Centaur were in his assumed shape? He might of course have drawn an ordinary man and have inscribed the legend, ‘This is a Centaur capable of assuming other forms’; or he might have drawn an ordinary animal with the explanatory note, ‘This is not really an animal but a Centaur in disguise.’ But if such expedients did not satisfy his artistic instincts, what was he to do? Surely his only course was to depict the Centaur in his normal human shape, and by some animal adjunct to indicate his powers of transformation. And that is what he did; for in the earliest art the fore part of the Centaur is a complete human figure, and the hind part is a somewhat disconnected equine appendage[656].

Nor is this artistic convention without parallel in ancient Greece. At Phigalea there was once, we are told, an ancient statue of Demeter represented as a woman with the head and mane of a horse; and the explanation of this equine adjunct was that she had once assumed the form of a mare[657]. In other words, the power of transformation was indicated in art by a composite form.

Hence indeed it is not unlikely that the very method which early artists adopted of indicating the Centaurs’ power to assume various single forms, being misunderstood by later generations among whom the Centaurs’ human origin and faculty of magical transformation were no longer predominant traditions, contributed not a little to the conception of Centaurs in an invariable composite form; and that later art, by blending the two incongruous elements into a more harmonious but less significant whole, confirmed men in that misunderstanding, until the old traditions became a piece of rare and local lore.

Thus on three separate grounds--the analogy of world-wide superstition which attributes to sorcerers the power of assuming bestial form; the tendency detected in modern Greek folk-lore to replace beings of single shape, but capable of transforming themselves into other single shapes, by creatures of composite shape; and the contrast between the horse-centaurs of archaic art and those of the Parthenon--we are led to the same conclusion, namely that the Centaurs were a tribe of reputed sorcerers whose most striking manifestation of power, in the eyes of their Achaean neighbours, was to turn themselves into wild beasts. The name Pheres was then in truth a title of respect, a title in no way derogatory to the virtuous Chiron, who, if he exercised his magical powers chiefly in mercy and healing, shared doubtless with the other Centaurs the miraculous faculty of metamorphosis.

Our first conclusion then concerning the Callicantzari, namely that they were originally men capable of turning into beasts, was no less correct than the second conclusion which showed them as the modern representatives of Dionysus’ attendant Satyrs and Sileni. Where the beliefs in their human origin and in their power of metamorphosis still prevail, Greek tradition has preserved not only the name but the essential character of the ancient Centaurs.

Does it seem hardly credible that popular tradition should still faithfully record a superstition which dates from before Homer and yet is practically ignored by Greek literature? Still if the fidelity of the common-folk’s memory is guaranteed in many details by its agreement with that which literature does record, it would be folly to disregard it where literature is silent or prefers another of the still prevalent traditions. Let us take only Apollodorus’ account[658] of the fight of Heracles with the Centaurs and mark the several points in which it confirms the present beliefs about the Callicantzari. The old home, he says, of the Centaurs before they came to Malea was Pelion; Pelion is now the place where above all others stories of the Callicantzari are rife; and in the neighbouring island of Sciathos it is believed[659] that they come at Christmas not from the lower world, but from the mainland, the old country of the Magnetes; even local associations then seem to have survived, just as in the modern stories about Demeter from Eleusis and from Phigaleia. Heracles was entertained in the cave of the Centaur Pholos; the Callicantzari likewise live in caves during their sojourn on earth, and their hospitality, though never sought, has been endured. The Centaur Pholos ate raw meat, though he provided his guest with cooked meat; the Callicantzari also regale themselves on uncooked food[660], toads and snakes for the most part, but in one Messenian story also raw dogs’-flesh[661]. Heracles broached a cask of wine, and Pholos’ brother Centaurs smelt it and swarmed to the cave on mischief bent; the Callicantzari have the same love of wine and the same malevolence. The first of the Centaurs to enter the cave were put to flight by Heracles with fire-brands, and his ordinary weapon, the bow, was not used by him save to complete the rout; fire-brands are the right weapons with which to scare away the Callicantzari. Surely, when such correspondences as these attest the integrity of popular tradition for some two thousand years, there is nothing incredible in the supposition that there had been equal integrity in popular (as opposed to artistic and literary) traditions for another thousand years or more before that.

Thus then it appears that in some districts of modern Greece, in which there prevail the beliefs that the Callicantzari are, in their normal form, human and that they are capable of transforming themselves into beasts, popular tradition dates from the age in which the Achaean invaders credited the Pelasgian tribe of Centauri with magical powers and in token of one special manifestation thereof surnamed them Pheres.

In other districts, where the Callicantzari are represented as demoniacal and not human and as monsters of mixed rather than of variable shape, the popular memory goes back to a period somewhat less remote, that period in which a new conception, encouraged perhaps unwittingly by archaic art, became predominant in classical art and literature, with the further result, we must suppose, that in the minds of some of the common-folk too monsters of composite shape took the place of the old human wonder-working Centaurs.

And yet again in other districts, where the Christmas mummers in the guise of Callicantzari are the modern representatives of those worshippers of Dionysus who dressed themselves in the guise of Satyrs or Sileni, the traditions which survive are mainly those of a post-classical age in which the half-human half-animal comrades of Dionysus lost their distinctive names and were enrolled in the Centaurs’ ranks.

Finally in the few districts where language at least testifies that werewolves have also been numbered among the Callicantzari, popular belief, though preserving much that is ancient, may have been modified by a superstition, or rather by an actual form of insanity, which was

## particularly prevalent in the Middle Ages.

Such have been in different districts and periods the various developments of a superstition which originated in the reputation for sorcery enjoyed by a Pelasgian tribe inhabiting Mount Pelion in a prehistoric age; and the complexity of modern traditions concerning the Callicantzari is due to the fact that they do not all date from one epoch but comprise the whole history of the Centaurs.

§ 14. GENII.

The tale of deities is now almost told. There remain only a few miscellaneous beings, identical or, at the least, comparable with the creations of ancient superstition, who may be classed together under the name of στοιχει̯ά[662] (anciently στοιχεῖα) or, to adopt the exact Latin equivalent, _genii_.

The Greek word, which in classical times served as a fair equivalent for any sense of our word ‘elements,’ became from Plato’s time onward a technical term in physics for those first beginnings of the material world which Empedocles had previously called ῥιζώματα and other philosophers ἀρχαί. The physical elements however were commonly supposed to be haunted each by its own peculiar spirit, and hence among the later Platonists the term στοιχεῖα became a technicality of demonology rather than of natural science[663]. Every component part of the visible universe was credited with an invisible _genius_, a spirit whose being was in some way bound up with the existence of its abode; and the term στοιχεῖον was transferred from the material to the spiritual.

But though the Platonists invented and introduced this new sense of the word, its widespread acceptance was probably not their work, but a curious accident resulting from misinterpretation of early Christian writings. In St Paul’s Epistles[664] there occurs several times a phrase, τὰ στοιχεῖα τοῦ κόσμου, ‘worldly principles,’ which was apparently a little too cultured for many of those who heard or read it. It conveyed to their minds probably no more than ‘being enslaved to weak and beggarly elements[665]’ conveys to the British peasant of to-day. What more natural then than that the commentator should accept the word in the sense given to it by the Platonists, and that the common-folk who heard his exposition should readily identify the στοιχεῖα whom they were bidden no longer to serve with the lesser deities and local _genii_ to whose service they had long been bound--to whose service moreover in spite of the supposed injunction they have always continued faithful? The Church, they would have felt, acknowledged the existence of these beings; ecclesiastical authority endorsed ancestral tradition; and since such beings existed, it were folly to ignore them; nay, since the Church declared that they were powers of evil, it was but prudent to propitiate them, to appease their malevolence. Thus στοιχεῖα came to be reckoned by every right-minded peasant among his regular demoniacal _entourage_. And so they remain--some of them hostile to man, some benevolent, but all alike wild, uncontrollable spirits--so that St Paul’s phrase στοιχεῖα τοῦ κόσμου even appears in one folk-song metaphorically as a description of wild and wilful young men[666].

Thus the very origin of the term rendered it comprehensive in meaning. Even the greater deities of ancient Greece were, in a sense, local--the occupants of prescribed domains; Poseidon might logically be called the _genius_ of the sea, Demeter of the corn-land; while lesser deities were always associated with particular spots and often unknown elsewhere. But mediaeval usage of the word στοιχεῖον and of its derivatives tended to widen the meaning of the word yet more. A verb στοιχειοῦν[667] was formed which properly meant to settle a _genius_ in a particular place--either a beneficent _genius_ to act as tutelary deity, or an evil _genius_ whose range of activity would thus be circumscribed within known and narrower limits; but it was used also in a larger sense to denote the exercise of any magical powers. A corresponding adjective στοιχειωματικός[668] was applied to anyone who had dealings with genii or familiar spirits, and more vaguely to wizards in general. Thus the famous magician Apollonius of Tyana is described as a ‘Pythagorean philosopher with power over _genii_’ (φιλόσοφος Πυθαγόρειος στοιχειωματικός)[669]; and two out of his many miracles may be taken as typical of his exercise of the power. Once, it is recorded, he was summoned to Byzantium by the inhabitants and there ‘he charmed (ἐστοιχείωσεν) snakes and scorpions not to strike, mosquitoes totally to disappear, horses to be quiet and not to be vicious either towards each other or towards man; the river Lycus also he charmed (ἐστοιχείωσεν) not to flood and do damage to Byzantium[670].’ In the first part of this passage the verb is undoubtedly used in a very lax sense, for snakes, scorpions, mosquitoes, and horses can hardly have been conceived to have their own several _genii_ or guardian-spirits upon whom magic could be exercised; but the charming of the river Lycus certainly suggests the restraining of the στοιχεῖον or _genius_ of the river within settled bounds. This stricter sense of the word however comes out more clearly in relation to good _genii_ who were settled by magical charms in any given object or place. Hence even the word στοιχεῖον reverted to a material sense, and was sometimes employed to mean a ‘talisman[671]’--an object, that is, in which resided a _genius_ capable of averting wars, pestilences, and suchlike. _Genii_ of this kind, we are told, were settled by the same Apollonius in the statues throughout Constantinople[672], where the belief in their efficacy seems to have been generally accepted; for there was to be seen there a cross in the middle of which was ‘the fortune of the city, namely a small chain having its ends locked together and possessed of power to keep the city abounding in all manner of goods and to give her victory ever over the nations (or heathen), that they should have strength no more to approach and draw nigh thereto, but should hold further aloof from her and retreat as though they had been vanquished. And the key of the chain was buried in the foundations of the pillars[673]’ on which the cross rested. The locked chain was probably the magical means by which the tutelary _genius_ of the city was kept at his post.

But these wide and vague usages of the word and its derivatives have now for the most part disappeared. Leo Allatius[674] still used στοιχειωματικός in the sense of ‘magician,’ but I have not found it in modern Greek. A remnant of the verb στοιχειοῦν[675] is seen in the past participle στοιχειωμένος, which at the present day is applied in its true sense to objects ‘haunted by _genii_.’ And the word στοιχειά, though locally extended in scope so as to become in effect synonymous with δαιμόνια or ἐξωτικά[676], comprising all non-Christian deities irrespectively of their close connexion with particular natural phenomena, still maintains in its more strict, and I think more frequent, usage the meaning of _genii_.

The term thus provided by the Platonists and popularised accidentally by the Church is a convenience in the classification of demons; for the ancient Greeks had no popular word which was exactly equivalent; they had to choose between the vague term δαιμόνιον which implied nothing of attachment to any place or object, and the special designation of the particular kind of _genius_. The Latin tongue was in this respect better supplied. It must not however be inferred that the introduction of the useful term στοιχεῖα into the demonological nomenclature of Greece marked any innovation in popular superstition. The Greeks no less than the Romans had from time immemorial believed in _genii_. That scene of the _Aeneid_[677], in which, while Aeneas is holding a memorial feast in honour of his father, a snake appears and tastes of the offerings and itself in turn is honoured with fresh sacrifice as being either the genius of the place or an attendant of the hero Anchises, is throughout Greek in tone; and the comment of Servius thereupon, ‘There is no place without a _genius_, which usually manifests itself in the form of a snake,’ revives a hundred memories of sacred snakes tended in the temples or depicted on the tombs of ancient Greece. Moreover several of the supernatural beings whom I have already described, and whose identity with the creatures of ancient superstition is established, are essentially _genii_. The Lamia is the _genius_ of the darksome cave where she makes her lair; the Gorgon, of the straits where she waylays her prey; and, most clearly of all, the Dryads are the _genii_ of the trees which they inhabit. For the life of each one of them is bound up with the life of the tree in which she dwells; and still as in old time, so surely as the tree decays away with age, her life too is done and ‘her soul leaves therewith the light of the sun[678].’ The woodman of to-day therefore speaks with the utmost fidelity to ancient tradition when he calls the trees where his Nereids dwell στοιχειωμένα δέντρα, ‘trees haunted by _genii_’; such innovation as there has been is in terminology only.

One word of caution only is required before we proceed to the consideration of various species of _genii_ not yet described. It must not be assumed that all _genii_, on the analogy of the tree-nymphs, die along with the dissolution of their dwelling-places; the existence of the _genius_ and that of the haunted object are indeed always closely and intimately united, but not necessarily in such a manner as to preclude the migration of the _genius_ on the dissolution of its first abode into a second. The converse proposition however, that any object could enjoy prolonged existence after the departure from it of the indwelling power, may be considered improbable.

The _genii_ with whom I now propose to deal fall into five main divisions according to their habitations. These are first buildings, secondly water, thirdly mountains, caves, and desert places, fourthly the air, fifthly human beings.

* * * * *

The _genii_ of buildings are universally acknowledged in Greece. The forms in which they appear are various; this may partly be explained by the belief that they possess the power of assuming different shapes at will; but it is certain also that their normal shape is in some measure determined by the nature of the building--house, church, or bridge--of which each is the guardian.

The _genius_ of a house appears almost always in the guise of a snake, or, according to Leo Allatius[679], of a lizard or other reptile. It is believed to have its permanent dwelling in the foundations, and not infrequently some hole or crevice in a rough cottage-floor is regarded as the entrance to its home. About such holes peasants have been known to sprinkle bread-crumbs[680]; and I have been informed, though I cannot vouch as an eye-witness for the statement, that on the festival of that saint whose name the master of a house bears, he will sometimes combine services to both his Christian and his pagan tutelary deities, substituting wine for the water on which the oil of the sacred lamp before the saint’s icon usually floats, and pouring a libation of milk--for the older deities disapprove of intoxicants--about the aperture which leads down to the subterranean home of the _genius_. If it so happen that there is a snake in the hole and the milky deluge compels it speedily to issue from its hiding-place, its appearance in the house is greeted with a silent delight or with a few words of welcome quietly spoken. For on no account must the ‘guardian of the house,’ νοικοκύρης[681] or τόπακας[682], as it is sometimes called, be frightened by any sound or sudden movement. Much less of course must any physical hurt or violence be done to it; the consequences of such

## action, even though it be due merely to inadvertence, are swift and

terrible; the house itself falls, or the member of the family who was guilty of the outrage dies in the self-same way in which he slew the snake[683].

These beliefs and customs are probably all of ancient date. Theophrastus[684] notes how the superstitious man, if he sees a snake in the house, sets up a shrine for it on the spot. The observation also of such snakes was a recognised department of ‘domestic divination’ (οἰκοσκοπική) on which one Xenocrates--not the disciple of Plato--wrote a treatise[685]. They were probably known as οἰκουροί, ‘guardians of the house’ (a name which is identical in meaning with the modern νοικοκύρης), for it is thus at any rate that Hesychius[686] designates the great snake which Herodotus[687] tells us was ‘guardian (φύλακα) of the acropolis’ at Athens, and which, by leaving untouched the honey-cake with which it was fed every month, proved to the Athenians, when the second Persian invasion was threatening them, that their tutelary deity had departed from the acropolis, and decided them likewise to evacuate the city. Thus the few facts that are recorded about this belief in antiquity accord so exactly with modern observations, that from the minuter detail of the latter the outlines of the former may safely be filled in.

The _genii_ of churches most commonly are seen or heard in the form of oxen--bulls for the most part[688], but also steers and heifers[689]. They appear, like all _genii_, most frequently at night, and, according to one authority, ‘are adorned with various precious stones which diffuse a brightness such as to light the whole church.’ ‘They are seldom harmful,’ continues the same writer[690]; ‘the few that are so--called simply κακά--do not dare to make their abode within the churches, but have their lairs close to them in order to do hurt to church-goers.... Near Calamáta, on a mountain-side, there is a chapel of ease dedicated to St George. The peasants narrate that at each annual festival held there on April 23rd a _genius_ used to issue forth from a hole close by and to devour one of the festal gathering. After some years the good people, seeing that there was no remedy for this annual catastrophe, decided to give up the festival. But a week before the feast St George appeared to them all simultaneously in a dream, and assured them that they should suffer no hurt at the festival, because he had sealed up the monster. And in fact they went there and found the hole closed by a massive stone, on which was imprinted the mark of a horse’s hoof; for St George, willing that the hole should remain always closed, had made his horse strike the stone with his hoof. Thenceforth the saint has borne the surname Πεταλώτης (from πέταλον the ‘shoe’ or ‘hoof’ of a horse) and up to this day is shewn the hoof-mark upon a stone.’

Harmless _genii_ however are more frequently assigned to churches, exercising a kind of wardenship over them and taking an interest in the parishioners. At Marousi, a village near Athens, there is a church which is still believed to have a _genius_, in the form of a bull, lurking in its foundations; and when any parishioner is about to die, the bull is heard to bellow three times at midnight. A church in Athens used to claim the same distinction, and the bellowing of the bull there is said to have been heard within living memory at the death of an old man named Lioules[691]. Other churches also in Athens, not to be outdone, pretended to the possession of _genii_ in the shapes of a snake, a black cock, and a woman, who all followed the bull’s example and emitted their appropriate cries thrice at midnight as a presage of similar events[692].

Why the _genii_ of churches in particular appear mostly as bulls, I cannot determine. When the _genius_ of a river manifests itself in that form, the connexion with antiquity is obvious; for river-gods, who _ex vi termini_ are the _genii_ of the rivers whose name they share, were constantly pourtrayed of old in the form of bulls. All that can be said is that the type of _genius_ is old, though its localisation is new and difficult to explain.

The _genii_ of bridges cannot properly, I suppose, be distinguished from the _genii_ of those rivers or ravines which the bridges span. They are usually depicted as dragons or other formidable monsters, and they are best known for the cruel toll which they exact when the bridge is a-building. The original conception is doubtless that of the river-god demanding a sacrifice, even of human life, in compensation for men’s encroachment upon his domain. The most famous of the folk-songs which celebrate such a theme is associated with ‘the Bridge of Arta,’ but many versions[693] of it have been published from different districts, and in some the names of other bridges are substituted; in Crete the story is attached to the ‘shaking bridge’ over a mountain torrent near Canea[694]; in the Peloponnese to ‘the Lady’s bridge’ over the river Ladon[695]; in the neighbourhood of Thermopylae to a bridge over the river Helláda[696]; in the island of Cos to the old bridge of Antimachia[697]. The song, in the version[698] which I select, runs thus:

‘Apprentices three-score there were, and craftsmen five and forty, For three long years they laboured sore to build the bridge of Arta; All the day long they builded it, each night it fell in ruin. The craftsmen fall to loud lament, th’ apprentices to weeping: “Alas, alas for all our toil, alack for all our labour, That all day long we’re building it, at night it falls in ruin.” Then from the rightmost arch thereof the demon gave them answer: “An ye devote not human life, no wall hath sure foundation; And now devote not orphan-child, nor wayfarer, nor stranger, But give your master-craftsman’s wife, his wife so fair and gracious, That cometh late toward eventide, that cometh late toward supper.” The master-craftsman heard it well, and fell as one death-stricken; A word anon he writes and bids the nightingale to carry: “Tarry to don thy best array, tarry to come to supper, Tarry to go upon thy way across the bridge of Arta.” The nightingale heard not aright, and carried other message: “Hurry to don thy best array, hurry to come to supper, Hurry to go upon thy way across the bridge of Arta.” Lo, there she came, now full in view, along the dust-white roadway; The master-craftsman her espied, and all his heart was breaking; E’en from afar she bids them hail, e’en from afar she greets them: “Gladness and health, my masters all, apprentices and craftsmen! What ails the master-craftsman then that he is so distressèd?” “Nought ails save only that his ring by the first arch is fallen; Who shall go in and out again his ring thence to recover?” “Master, be not so bitter-grieved, I will go fetch it for thee; Let me go in and out again thy ring thence to recover.” Not yet had she made full descent, not halfway had descended; “Draw up the rope, prithee goodman, draw up the cable quickly, For all the world is upside down, and nought have I recovered.” One plies the spade to cover her, another shovels mortar, The master-craftsman lifts a stone, and hurls it down upon her. “Alas, alas for this our doom, alack for our sad fortune! Three sisters we, and for all three a cruel fate was written. One went to building Doúnavi, the next to build Avlóna, And I, the last of all the three, must build the bridge of Arta. Even as trembles my poor heart, so may the bridge-way tremble, Even as my fair tresses fall, so fall all they that cross it!” “Nay, change, girl, prithee change thy speech, and utter other presage; Thou hast one brother dear to thee, and haply he may pass it.” Then changèd she her speech withal, and uttered other presage: “As iron now is my poor heart, as iron stand the bridge-way, As iron are my tresses fair, iron be they that cross it! For I’ve a brother far away, and haply he may pass it.”’

But while the most famous examples of sacrifice to _genii_ are connected with bridges, the custom in a less criminal form than that which the folk-songs celebrate is common throughout Greece to-day. In building a house or any other edifice, the question of propitiating the _genius_ already in possession of the site and of inducing it to become the guardian of the building is duly considered. Sacrifice is done. The peace-offering, according to the importance of the building and the means of the future owner, may consist of an ox, a ram, a he-goat, or a cock (or, less commonly, of a hen with her brood[699]), preferably of black colour, as were in old time victims designed for gods beneath the earth. The selected animal is in Acarnania and Aetolia[700] taken to the site, and there its throat is cut so that the blood may fall on the foundation-stone, beneath which the body is then interred. In some other places[701] it suffices to mark a cross upon the stone with the victim’s blood. In the same district the practice of taking auspices from the victim--from the shoulder-blade in the case of a ram and from the breast-bone in the case of a cock--is occasionally combined with the sacrifice, but is not essential to the ceremony.

But animals, though they are the only victims actually slaughtered upon the spot, are not the only form of peace-offering. Even at the present day when, added to the power of the law, a sense of humanity, or a fear of being pronounced ‘uncivilised,’ tends to deter the peasantry even of the most outlying districts from actually satisfying the more savage instincts of hereditary superstition, there still exists a strong feeling that a human victim is preferable to an animal for ensuring the stability of a building. Fortunately therefore for the builder’s peace of mind, the principles of sympathetic magic offer a compromise between actual murder and total disregard of the traditional rite. It suffices to obtain from a man or woman--an enemy for choice but, failing that, ‘out of philanthropy’ as a Greek authority puts it, any aged person whose term of life is well-nigh done--some such object as a hair or the paring of a nail, or again a shred of his clothing or a cast-off shoe, or it may be a thread or stick[702] marked with the measure either of the footprint or of the full stature of the person, and to bury it beneath the foundation-stone of the new edifice. By this proceeding a human victim is devoted to the _genius_ of the site, and will die within the year as surely as if an image of him were moulded in wax and a needle run through its heart. Another variation of the same rite consists in enticing some passer-by to the spot and laying the foundation-stone upon his shadow. In Santorini I myself was once saved from such a fate by the rough benevolence of a stranger who dragged me back from the place where I was standing and adjured me to watch the proceedings from the other side of the trench where my shadow could not fall across the foundations. Nor are the invited guests immune; unenviable therefore is the position of those persons who are officially required to assist at the laying of the foundation-stones of churches and other public buildings. The demarch (or mayor) of Agrinion informed me that, according to the belief of the common-folk in the neighbourhood, his four immediate predecessors in office had all fallen victims to this their public duty; and he described to me the concern and consternation of his own women-folk when he himself had recently braved the ordeal. He honestly allowed too that he had kept his shadow clear of the dangerous spot.

So much importance is attached to these foundation-ceremonies that the Church has provided a special office to be read alike for cathedral or for cottage; and the priest who attends for this purpose is sometimes induced to pronounce a blessing on the animal that is to be sacrificed. This however is the more expensive rite; the victim has to be bought, and the priest expects a fee for blessing it; whereas the immolation of a shadow-victim costs nothing, is more efficacious as being equivalent to a human sacrifice, and provides an excellent means for removing an enemy with impunity.

The sacrificial ceremony is also sometimes performed on other occasions than those of the laying of foundation-stones. In Athens a precept of popular wisdom enjoins the slaughtering of a black cock when a new quarry is opened[703]; and an interesting account is given by Bent[704] of a similar scene at the launching of a ship in Santorini. ‘When they have built a new vessel, they have a grand ceremony at the launching, or benediction, as they call it here, at which the priest officiates; and the crowd eagerly watch, as she glides into the water, the position she takes, for an omen is attached to this. It is customary to slaughter an ox, a lamb or a dove on these occasions, according to the wealth of the proprietor and the size of the ship, and with the blood to make a cross on the deck. After this the captain jumps off the bows into the sea with all his clothes on, and the ceremony is followed by a banquet and much rejoicing.’ Here it is reasonable to suppose that the captain by jumping into the sea goes through the form of offering himself as a sacrifice to the _genius_ of the sea, and that the animal actually slaughtered is a surrogate victim in his stead.

The strength of these superstitions to-day, as gauged by the shifts and compromises to which the peasants resort in order to satisfy their scruples, goes far to guarantee the historical accuracy of such ballads as ‘the Bridge of Arta.’ Not of course that each of the numerous versions with all its local colouring is to be taken as evidence of human sacrifice in each place named; exactitude of detail cannot be claimed for them. But as a faithful picture of the beliefs and customs prevalent not more perhaps than two or three centuries ago they deserve full credence. Both the wide dispersion of the several versions, and also the skill with which in each of them the action of the master-builder evokes feelings not of aversion but rather of pity for a man of whom religious duty demanded the sacrifice of his own wife, furnish plain proof of the domination which the superstition in its most gruesome form once exercised; and the intentions of the modern peasants, if not their acts, testify to the same overwhelming dread of _genii_.

That the ceremonies which I have described are in general of the nature of sacrifices to _genii_ is beyond question. In the version of ‘the Bridge of Arta’ which I have translated, both the _genius_ and the victim whom he demands appear as _dramatis personae_. Again, in some districts the word ‘sacrifice’ (θυσιό[705] or θυσία[706]) is actually still applied to the rite. Finally, though the victims are of various kinds and the forms in which a genius may appear equally various, the distinction between the two is as a rule kept clear; cases of a single species of animal serving for both _genius_ and victim--of the _genius_ for example appearing as a cock or of the chosen victim being a snake--are extremely rare.

Confusion of the two nevertheless does occur; the original _genius_ of the site is sometimes forgotten, and the victim is conceived to be slain and buried in order that from the under-world it may exercise a guardianship over the building which is its tomb. Thus in one version of ‘the Bridge of Arta,’ inferior in many respects to that which I have translated, the complaint of the master-craftsman’s wife contains the line

τρεῖς ἀδερφούλαις εἴμασταν, ταὶς τρεῖς στοιχειὰ μᾶς βάλαν[707], ‘Three sisters we, and all the three they took for guardian-demons.’

Probably the same confusion of thought was responsible for the representation of the _genius_ of a church in Athens in the shape of a cock, which is the commonest kind of victim; and possibly too the bulls which are so frequently the guardians of churches were originally the victims considered most suitable for the foundation of such important edifices. This error of belief has undoubtedly been facilitated by the use of a word which in its mediaeval meanings has already been discussed--the verb στοιχειόνω. This, as I have pointed out, meant strictly ‘to provide (a place or object) with a _genius_.’ But in modern usage it can take an accusative of the victim devoted to a _genius_ no less than of the place provided with a _genius_. In Zacynthos and Cephalonia, says Bernhard Schmidt[708], the phrase στοιχειόνω ἀρνί, for example, meaning ‘I devote a lamb’ to the _genius_, is in regular use; and so too in the above rendering of ‘the Bridge of Arta,’ the phrase which I have translated ‘an ye devote not human life’ is in the Greek ἂν δὲ στοιχειώσετ’ ἄνθρωπο. Now verbs of this form are in both ancient and modern Greek usually causative. The ancient δηλόω and modern δηλόνω mean ‘I make (an object) clear’ (δῆλος): the ancient χρυσόω and modern χρυσόνω mean ‘I make (an object) gold’ (χρυσός). Similarly στοιχειόνω is readily taken to mean ‘I make (an animal or person) the _genius_’ (στοιχεῖον) of a place. If therefore this word continued to be applied to the rite of slaughtering an animal at foundation-ceremonies in any place where the true purport of the custom, as often happens, had been forgotten, language itself would at once suggest that erroneous interpretation of the custom of which we have seen examples; the victim would be raised to the rank of _genius_.

This development of modern superstition supplies a clue for tracing the evolution of ancient Greek religion, which has hitherto been missed by those who have dealt with the subject[709]. They have generally compared with the modern Greek superstition similar beliefs and customs prevalent throughout the Balkans and even beyond them, and have thence inferred that the practice of sacrificing to the _genii_ of sites selected for building was of Slavonic importation. The wide distribution of the superstition in the Balkans, especially among the Slavonic peoples, is a fact; but the inference goes too far. To Slavonic influence I impute the recrudescence of the superstition in its most barbarous form, involving human sacrifice, during the Middle Ages. Ancient history, even ancient mythology, contains no story so suggestive of barbarity as one brief statement made by Suidas: ‘At St Mamas there was a large bridge consisting of twelve arches (for there was much water coming down), and there a brazen dragon was set up, because it was thought that a dragon inhabited the place; and there many maidens were sacrificed[710].’ The date of the events to which the passage refers cannot be ascertained; but I certainly suspect it to be subsequent to the Slavonic invasion of Greece. Yet even so the Slavs did not initiate a new custom but merely stimulated the native belief that _genii_ required sacrifice in compensation for the building of any edifice on their domains. This belief dated from the Homeric age--nay, was already old when the Achaeans built their great wall with lofty towers, a bulwark for them and their ships against the men of Ilium.

‘Thus,’ we read, ‘did they labour, even the long-haired Achaeans; but the gods sitting beside Zeus that wieldeth the lightning gazed in wonder on the mighty work of the bronze-clad Achaeans. And to them did Poseidon the earth-shaker open speech: “Father Zeus, is there now one mortal on the boundless earth, that will henceforth declare unto immortals his mind and purpose? Seest thou not that contrariwise the long-haired Achaeans have built a wall to guard their ships and driven a trench about it, and have not offered unto the gods fair sacrifice? Verily their wall shall be famed far as Dawn spreads her light; and that which I with Phoebus Apollo toiled to build for the hero Laomedon will men forget.” And unto him spake Zeus that gathereth the clouds, sore-vexed: “Fie on thee, thou earth-shaker whose sway is wide, for this thy word. Well might this device of men dismay some other god lesser than thou by far in work and will; but thou verily shalt be famed far as Dawn spreads her light. Go to; when the long-haired Achaeans be gone again with their ships unto their own native land, break thou down their wall and cast it all into the sea and cover again the vast shore with sand, that so the Achaeans’ great wall may be wiped out from thy sight[711].”’ And later in the _Iliad_ we read of the fulfilment; how that the rivers of the Trojan land were marshalled and led by Poseidon, his trident in his hands, to the assault of the wall that ‘had been fashioned without the will of the gods and could no long time endure[712].’

The whole passage finds its best commentary in modern superstition. Poseidon, though a great god, is the local _genius_; to him belongs the shore where the Greek ships are assembled, to him too the land where he had built the town of Ilium; to him therefore were due sacrifices for the building of the wall. But the god whose fame is known far as Dawn spreads her light deserves the rebuke administered by Zeus for his pettiness of spirit. An ordinary local _genius_, ‘some god far lesser than he in work and will,’ might justly wax wrathful at the neglect of his more limited prerogatives. Yet even so the wall was doomed to endure no long time. Then as now the divine law ran, ‘An ye devote not hecatombs, no wall hath sure foundation.’

In this passage there is of course no suggestion of a local _genius_ in animal shape; the anthropomorphic tendency of Homeric religion was too strong to admit of that. But since we know from Theophrastus’ sketch of the superstitious man and from other sources that in the classical age _genii_ of houses and temples were believed to appear in the form of snakes, we may without hesitation assign the same belief to earlier ages. Such a superstition could not in the nature of things have sprung up after an anthropomorphic conception of the gods dominated all religion, but must necessarily have been a survival from pre-classical and pre-Homeric folklore.

But, though Homer speaks of the _genius_ only as a ‘lesser god’ without further description, he implies clearly that the present custom of doing sacrifice to such a being for the foundation of any building was then in existence. Did the sacrifice ever involve human victims? A positive and certain answer cannot, I suppose, be made; but bearing in mind the many ancient traditions of human sacrifice in Greece and even the occasional continuance of the practice in the most civilised and enlightened age[713] I cannot doubt it. I suspect that, if we could obtain an earlier version of the story of Iphigenia than has come down to us, we should find that the wrath of Artemis had no part in it, but that human sacrifice was offered to the Winds or other _genii_ of the air--that the ‘maiden’s blood’ was, in the words of Aeschylus, ‘a sacrifice to stay the winds[714],’ ‘a charm to lull the Thracian blasts[715],’ that and nothing more. But a story still more strongly evidential of the custom is told by Pausanias[716]. In the war between Messenia and Sparta, when the Messenians had been reduced to extremities, ‘they decided to evacuate all their many towns in the open country and to establish themselves on Mount Ithome. Now there was there a town of no great size, which Homer, they say, includes in the Catalogue--“Ithome steep as a ladder.” In this town they established themselves, extending its ancient circuit so as to provide a stronghold large enough for all. And apart even from the fortifications the place was strong; for Ithome is as high as any mountain in the Peloponnese and, where the town lay, was particularly inaccessible. They determined also to send an envoy to Delphi,’ who brought them back the following oracle:

A maiden pure unto the nether powers, Chosen by lot, of lineage Aepytid, Ye shall devote in sacrifice by night. But if ye fail thereof, take ye a maid E’en from a man of other race as victim, An he shall give her willingly to slay.

And the story goes on to tell how in the end Aristodemus devoted his own daughter, and she became the accepted victim.

Here Pausanias, it will be noticed, does not give any reason for the sacrifice being required. But three points in his narrative are highly suggestive. The story of the sacrifice follows immediately upon the mention of the building of new fortifications--and the foundation of what was to be practically a new city was eminently a question on which to consult the Delphic oracle; the powers to whom sacrifice is ordered are designated merely as νέρτεροι δαίμονες, the nearest equivalent in ancient Greek to _genii_; and the time of the sacrifice is to be night, when, according to modern belief, _genii_ are most active. If then modern superstition can ever teach us anything about ancient religion, it supplies the clue here. The maiden was to be sacrificed to the _genii_ of Mount Ithome to ensure the stability of the new fortifications.

Now if my interpretation of this story is right and the practice of human sacrifice to _genii_ was known in ancient Greece, the transition from the worship of _genii_ in the form of snakes or dragons to the worship of tutelary heroes or gods in human likeness is readily explained on the analogy of a similar transition in modern belief. What was originally the victim was mistaken for the genius. The same confusion of thought, by which, in one version of ‘the Bridge of Arta,’ the _genius_ in person demands a human victim and yet afterwards the victim speaks of herself as becoming the _genius_ of the bridge, can be detected even in the oracle given to the Messenians. ‘If ye fail to find a maid of the blood of the Aepytidae,’ it said, ‘ye may take the daughter of a man of other lineage, provided that he give her willingly for sacrifice.’ Why the condition? Why ‘willingly’ only? Because, I think, even the Delphic oracle halted between two opinions--between the conception of the maiden as a victim to appease angry _genii_ and the belief that the dead girl herself would become the guardian-_daemon_ of the stronghold.

Let us read another story from Pausanias[717]: ‘At the base of Mount Cronius, on the north side (of the Altis at Olympia), between the treasuries and the mountain, there is a sanctuary of Ilithyia, and in it Sosipolis, a native _daemon_ of Elis, is worshipped. To Ilithyia they give the surname “Olympian,” and elect a priestess to minister to her year by year. The old woman too who waits upon Sosipolis is bound by Elean custom to chastity in her own person, and brings water for the bathing of the god and serves him with barley-cakes kneaded with honey. In the front part of the temple, which is of double construction, is an altar of Ilithyia, and entrance thereto is public; but in the inner part Sosipolis is worshipped, and only the woman who serves the god may enter, and she only with her head and face covered by a white veil. And while she does so, maidens and married women wait in the temple of Ilithyia and sing a hymn; incense of all sorts is also offered to him, but no libations of wine. An oath also at the sanctuary of Sosipolis is taken on very great occasions.

‘It is said that when the Arcadians had once invaded Elis, and the Eleans lay encamped opposite to them, a woman came to the generals of the Eleans, with a child at her breast, and said that, though she was the mother of the child, she offered it, bidden thereto by dreams, to fight on the side of the Eleans. And those in command, trusting the woman’s tale, put the child in the forefront of the army naked. Then the Arcadians came to the attack, and lo! straightway the child was changed into a serpent. And the Arcadians, dismayed at the sight, turned to flight, and were pressed by the Eleans, who won a signal victory and gave to the god the name of Sosipolis (“saviour of the state”). And at the place where the serpent disappeared in the ground after the battle they set up the sanctuary; and along with him they took to worshipping Ilithyia, because she was the goddess who had brought the boy into the world.’

Is this story complete, or did Pausanias’ informants suppress one material point out of shame? How came a mortal infant to assume the form of a serpent which is proper only to apparitions from the lower world? The missing episode is, I believe, the sacrifice of the child, which having been offered willingly became after death a _daemon_ friendly to the Eleans and fought, in the form of a serpent, on their side. Human sacrifice before a battle was not unknown in ancient Greece[718], but by Pausanias’ time the inhabitants of Elis might well have hesitated to impute to their forefathers so barbarous a custom, and have modified the story by omitting even that incident which alone could make it harmonise with ancient religious ideas[719].

A similar view has been taken of another story of Pausanias[720], also from Elis. ‘Oxylus (the king of Elis), they say, had two sons Aetolus and Laias. Aetolus died before his parents and was buried by them in a tomb which they caused to be made exactly in the gate of the road to Olympia and the sanctuary of Zeus. The cause of their burying him thus was an oracle which forbade the corpse to be either within or without the city. And up to my time the governor of the gymnasium still makes annual offerings to Aetolus as a hero.’ Commenting on this passage Dr Frazer[721] says, ‘The spirit of the dead man was probably expected to guard the gate against foes.... It is possible that in this story of the burial of Aetolus in the gate we have a faded tradition of an actual human sacrifice offered when the gate was built.’ Certainly the facts that Aetolus was young and that he was not head of the royal house make his elevation to the rank of tutelary hero after death difficult to understand on any other hypothesis; and it should be noted too that the oracle, in obedience to which his tomb was made in the gateway, probably came, as the preceding context suggests, from Delphi, that same shrine which was responsible for the sacrifice of Aristodemus’ daughter in the Messenian war.

Thus there is some probability that in ancient, as in modern, Greece the _genius_ was sometimes superseded by the victim offered to him, but bequeathed to his successor something of his own character. The victim, now become a hero, manifested himself in the old-established guise of a serpent, and, if we may judge from the case of Sosipolis at Olympia, continued to be fed with honey-cakes, the same food which had been considered the appropriate diet for the original snake-_genii_ such as those dwelling in the Erechtheum. But, when once the transition of worship was well advanced, the power to assume serpent-form was naturally extended to all tutelary heroes and even to gods; to have been sacrificed was no longer the sole qualifying condition. The hero Cychreus went to the help of the Athenians at Salamis in the form of a serpent[722]. Two serpents were the incarnations of the heroes Trophonius and Agamedes at the oracle of Lebadea[723]. Amphiaraus was represented by a snake on the coins of Oropus. An archaic relief of the sixth century B.C. in the Museum of Sparta, to which Miss Harrison has recently called attention, represents ‘a male and a female figure seated side by side on a great throne-like chain.... Worshippers of diminutive size approach with offerings--a cock and some object that may be a cake, an egg, or a fruit.... It is clear that we have ... representations of the dead, but the dead conceived of as half-divine, as heroized--hence their large size as compared with that of their worshipping descendants. They are κρείττονες, “Better and Stronger Ones.” The artist of the relief is determined to make his meaning clear. Behind the chair, equal in height to the seated figures, is a great curled snake, but a snake strangely fashioned. From the edge of his lower lip hangs down a long beard, a decoration denied by nature. The intention is clear; he is a _human_ snake, the vehicle, the incarnation of the dead man’s ghost[724].’

In this relief the offerings depicted also are, I think, no less instructive than the bearded snake. If we may suppose that the somewhat indeterminate object, cake, egg, or fruit, was intended for a honey-cake, the offerings combine that which was the accustomed food of snake-_genii_ in ancient times with a cock, the victim most frequently sacrificed to the same _genii_ at the present day.

Of gods, Asclepius, perhaps because he began life as a hero, was most frequently represented in serpent-form. It was in this guise that he came to Sicyon, Epidaurus Limera, and Rome[725]; and in later times Lucian tells a humorous tale of how an impostor effected by trickery a supposed re-incarnation of Asclepius in snake-form before the very eyes of the people out of whose superstitions he made a living and indeed a fortune[726]. Here again, if we may argue from modern custom, the serpent-form carried with it the traditional offering of a ‘cock to Asclepius.’ But other gods too had sometimes their attendant snakes, as had Asclepius at Epidaurus; and in every case it is likely that the

## particular god had originally dispossessed a primitive snake-_genius_,

but inherited from him and retained for a time in local cults the form of a snake; until, as the conception of the gods became more and more anthropomorphic, the snake ceased to be a manifestation of the god himself and became merely his minister or his symbol. Even Zeus himself, under the title of Meilichios, is proved by two reliefs found at the Piraeus to have been figured for a time by his worshippers as a snake[727].

In many such cases doubtless the substitution of the cult of a new and named god for that of a primitive and nameless _genius_ explains adequately the incomer’s inheritance and temporary retention of the snake-form; but in the case of tutelary heroes, above all, the analogy of modern folk-lore, in which the human victim is sometimes erroneously elevated to the rank of guardian-_genius_, supplies, I think, the right clue to the process by which in ancient times the snake came to be the recognised incarnation of the spirits of dead men and heroes.

* * * * *

The _genii_ of water, to whom we now turn, are sometimes imagined in the form of dragons or of bulls, but more often by far in human or quasi-human shape. An exception to the general rule must of course be made in the case of the _genii_ of bridges, if, as I suppose, they were originally identical with the _genii_ of those rivers which the bridges span; for these, as I have said, are usually dragons. But if in this case there is a difference in outward appearance, there is a general agreement at any rate in characteristics; for the _genii_ of water are no less hostile to man than those who demand human sacrifice as the price of their permission to build a bridge.

At Kephalóvryso in Aetolia the _genii_ of a river were described to me as red, grinning devils who might often be seen sitting in the bed of the stream beneath the water. They were believed to mate with _Lamiae_ who infested several caves on the bank of the river; and together these two kinds of monster would feed on the bodies of men whom they had dragged into the river and drowned.

But far more frequently the _genii_ of water, and especially of wells, appear in the form of Arabs (Ἀράπηδες), and may be seen sometimes smoking long pipes in the depths. They have the power of transforming themselves into any shape. At one time they assume dragon-form and terrorise a whole country side; at another they adopt the guise of a lovely maiden weeping beside a well, and, on pretence of having dropped into it a ring, induce gallant and unwary men to descend to their death[728]; for when once the Arab has entrapped them in his well he feeds upon them or smokes them in lieu of tobacco in his pipe.

How Arabs have come to find a place among the _genii_ of modern Greece is a question which must be answered in one of two ways. Either during the Turkish domination of Greece the Arab slaves, who were to be found in every wealthy house, were suspected by the Christian population of possessing magical powers, and from being magicians were elevated, as the _Striges_ often were in mediaeval and modern Greece, to the rank of demons; or else they are another example of the transmutation of victims into _genii_. For several reasons I incline to the latter explanation. First, these Arabs are most commonly associated with wells, and for the sinking of a well, no less than for the erection of a building or the opening of a quarry, a victim would naturally be required. Secondly, an animal victim is for choice of a black or dark colour, and, by parity of reasoning, among human victims an Arab (or other man of dark colour, for the word Arab is used popularly of all such) would be preferable to a white man. Thirdly, it was reported from Zacynthos only a generation ago that a strong feeling still existed there in favour of sacrificing a Mohammedan or a Jew at the foundation of important bridges and other buildings[729]; and there is a legend of a black man having been actually immured in the bridge of an aqueduct near Lebadea in Boeotia[730]. Lastly, I heard from a shepherd belonging to Chios the story of a house in that island haunted by beings whom he called indifferently Arabs[731] and _vrykólakes_. He himself had been mad for eight months from the shock of seeing them, and four of his friends who visited the house to discover the cause of his disaster were similarly afflicted. The demons were finally laid to rest by an old man driving a flock of goats through the house[732]. Now _vrykólakes_, with whom I shall deal at length later on, are persons resuscitated after death who issue from their graves; and among those who are predisposed to such reappearance are men who have met with a violent death. The identification therefore of Arabs with _vrykólakes_ in this story suggests that an Arab victim sacrificed at the foundation of some building might become the _genius_ of it--not in this case the beneficent guardian of it, but owing to his violent death a malicious and hurtful monster. On this evidence I incline to the view that the Arabs who now form a class of _genii_ were originally the human victims preferred at the sinking of wells--a piece of engineering, it must be remembered, of first-rate importance in a country as dry as Greece--and that, when once these _genii_ had become associated with water, the popular imagination soon assigned them to rivers and natural springs no less than to wells.

The _genii_ of rivers sometimes appear also in the shape of bulls, though as I have already remarked this type of _genius_ is far more commonly associated with churches. Possibly in some cases the fact that the church was built in the neighbourhood of some sacred spring, whose miraculous virtue was of older date and repute than Christianity, first caused the transference; but at any rate some rivers still retain this type of _genius_, the type under which river gods were regularly represented in ancient times. In this connexion a story entitled ‘the ox-headed man[733]’ and narrated to me at Goniá in the island of Santorini deserves mention.

A princess and a poor girl once agreed that when they were married, if of their respective first-born the one should be a boy and the other a girl, these two should be married. Now, as it chanced, princess and peasant-maid were both wed on the same day, but for a long time both remained childless. Then at last they prayed to the Panagia, the princess for a child even if it were but a girl, the peasant for a son even if he were but half a man; and their prayers were answered; for the poor woman bore a son with the head of an ox, while the princess was blest with a beautiful daughter.

When the two children were grown up, the poor woman went one day to claim the fulfilment of the agreement, and the princess, or rather now the queen, went to ask her husband. He however objected to the suitor on the grounds of personal appearance, and stipulated that he should at least first perform certain feats to prove his worthiness. The first task was to build a palace of pearls, the second to plant the highest mountain of Santorini (μέσο βουνί, ‘central mountain,’ as it is locally called) with trees, and the third to border all the roads of the island with flowers. For each labour one single night was the limit of time. But the ox-headed man was equal to the work, and having accomplished it came riding on a white horse to claim his bride. The king however, who had imposed these three labours in full assurance that the unseemly suitor would fail, now flatly refused to abide by his promise, and the man retired disconsolate and disappeared none knew whither.

The young princess was much affected at the unfair treatment of her lover, and each day she grew more and more melancholy. But finally she hit upon a means of cheering herself. She proposed to her father that they should leave the palace and start an inn, not for money, but for the sake of the amusement to be derived from the stories and witty sayings of the guests. The king consented, and the inn was set up.

Now one day a boy who had been fishing dropped his rod into the river, and having dived in after it came to a flight of stairs at the bottom. Having walked down forty steps, he entered a large room where sat the ox-headed man, who talked with him and told him that he was waiting there for a princess who came not. The boy then returned without hurt, and on his way home had to pass the inn. Having turned in there, he was asked by the princess to tell her something amusing. He replied however that he knew no stories, but would recount to her an adventure which had just befallen him. In the course of the story the princess recognised that what the boy called the _genius_ of the river (τὸ στοιχειὸ τοῦ ποταμοῦ) could be no other than her lover, and having been straightway conducted to the spot, found and married the ox-headed man, and in his palace under the river lived happily ever afterwards--“but” (as Greek fairy-tales often end) “we here much more happily.”

It is curious that Santorini of all places should be the source of this story; for the island does not possess a stream. Locally however certain gullies by which the island is intersected are known as rivers (ποταμοί)[734], and after unusually heavy rain they might perhaps form torrents; at any rate one known as ‘the evil river’ (ὁ κακὸς ποταμός) is frequently mentioned in popular traditions as a real river. Possibly the tradition is accurate; for the volcanic nature of the island would readily account for the disappearance of a single stream[735]. But the importance of the story lies in the mention of an ox-headed man as _genius_ of a river. The fact that he is made the son of a peasant-woman need not concern us; the first part of the story is probably adapted from some other folk-tale with a view to account for the wooing of a princess by so ill-favoured a suitor. In the latter part we have a more ancient _motif_, the wedding of a mortal maid with a river-god. If only it were mentioned in this tale that, besides the power of performing miraculous tasks, the bull-headed man had the faculty, which modern _genii_ possess, of transforming himself into other shapes, we should have a complete parallel (save in the princess’ willingness to wed) with the wooing of Deianira by the river-god Achelous; “for he,” says she, “in treble shapes kept seeking me from my sire, coming now in true bull-form, now as a coiling serpent of gleaming hues, anon with human trunk and head of ox[736].” The _genii_ of rivers have not, it would seem, changed their forms and attributes, save for the admission of Arabs to their number, from the age of Sophocles to this day.

* * * * *

The third class of _genius_ which we have to notice is terrestrial, inhabiting mountains, rocks, caves, and any other grim and desolate places. These _genii_ are the most frequent of all, and are known as dragons. Not of course that all dragons are terrestrial; the dragon-form has already been mentioned among the forms proper to the _genii_ of springs and wells, and also as a shape assumed at will by the Arabs who more frequently occupy those haunts. But terrestrial _genii_, in whatever place they make their lair--and no limit can be set to such places--are far most commonly pictured as dragons; and I have therefore preferred to speak of the dragons in general here, rather than among the _genii_ of either buildings or water.

The term δράκος or δράκοντας[737] indicates to the Greek peasant a monster of no more determinate shape than does the word ‘dragon’ to ourselves. The Greek word however differs, and has always differed, from the English form of it in one respect, namely that it is often employed in a strict and narrow sense to denote a ‘serpent’ as distinguished from a small snake (in modern Greek φίδι, i.e. ὀφίδιον, the diminutive of the ancient ὄφις). On the other hand, a Greek ‘dragon,’ in the widest sense of the term, is sometimes distinctly anthropomorphic in popular stories, and is made to boil kettles and drink coffee without any sense of impropriety. It is in fact only from the context of a story that it is possible to determine in what shape the dragon is imagined; in general it is neither flesh nor fowl nor good red devil; heads and tails, wings and legs, teeth and talons, are assigned to it in any number and variety; it breathes air and fire indifferently; it sleeps with its eyes open and sees with them shut; it makes war on men and love to women; it roars or it sings, and there is little to choose between the two performances; for the lapse of centuries, it seems, has in no wise mellowed its voice[738]. The stories of the common-folk are full of these monsters’ savagery and treachery[739]; for it is the dragons, above all other supernatural beings, who provide the wandering hero of the fairy-tales with befitting adventures and tests of prowess.

A common _motif_ of such stories is provided by the belief that dragons are the guardians of buried treasure. When a man in a dream has had revealed to him the whereabouts of buried treasure, his right course is to go to the spot without breathing to anyone a hint of his secret, and there to slay a cock or other animal such as is offered at the laying of foundation-stones, in order to appease the _genius_ (which is almost always a dragon, though an Arab is occasionally substituted) before he ventures to disturb the soil. This is the very superstition which Artemidorus had in mind when he interpreted dreams about dragons to denote ‘wealth and riches, because dragons make their fixed abode over treasures[740].’ Having complied with these conditions the digger may hope to bring gold to light; but if he have previously betrayed to anyone his expectations or have failed to propitiate the dragon, the old proverb is fulfilled, ἄνθρακες ὁ θησαυρός[741], his treasure turns out to be but ashes (κάρβουνα).

The guardianship likewise of gardens wherein flow ‘immortal waters’ or grows ‘immortal fruit’ is the province of dragons. In Tenos a typical story concerning them is told in several versions[742]. The hero of them all bears the name of Γιαννάκης or ‘Jack’ (a familiar diminutive of Ἰωάννης, ‘John’)--a name commonly given in Greek fairy-tales to the performer of Heraclean feats. The hero who, after discovering that his youngest sister is a Strigla, has fled with his mother, the queen, from the palace where they were in imminent danger of being devoured[743], comes to a castle occupied by forty dragons. The prince straightway attacks them single-handed and slays, so he thinks, all of them, but in reality one has only feigned to be dead and so escapes to a hole beneath the castle, of which Jack now becomes the master. The remaining dragon however ventures forth, when the prince is gone out to the chase, and makes love to the queen, and after a while dragon and queen knowing that the prince would be incensed at their intrigue conspire to kill him. To this end the queen on her son’s return pretends to be ill, and in response to his enquiries tells him that the only thing that can heal her is ‘immortal water[744],’ which, as her paramour, the dragon, knows, is to be found only in a distant garden guarded by one or more other dragons. The prince at once undertakes to obtain the desired remedy, and is directed by a witch (who in some versions appears as the impersonation of his τύχη or ‘Fortune’) whither to go and how to deal with the dragons. These accordingly he slays or eludes, and so returns home unhurt bringing the immortal water. Then once more the dragon and the queen take counsel together, and the pretence of illness is repeated with a demand this time for some immortal fruit or herb[745] known to be guarded in the same way as the water; and once more the prince sets out and circumvents the dragons in some new fashion.

Between such stories and the ancient fable of Heracles’ journey to the land of the Hesperides in search of the golden apples, and of his victory over the guardian-dragon Ladon, the connexion is self-evident. Whether that connexion is one of direct lineage, is less certain. More probably, I think, a form of this same story was already current in an age to which the name of Heracles was as unknown as that of the modern Jack; and just as the story of Peleus and Thetis became the classical example of the winning of a nymph to wife by a mortal man[746], so the myth, by which the exploit of bearing off wonderful fruit from the custody of a dragon was numbered among the labours of Heracles, is nothing more than the authorised version, so to speak, of a fairy-tale that might have been heard of winter-nights in Greek cottage-homes any time between the Pelasgian and the present age.

* * * * *

Daemons of the air, the fourth class of _genius_ which we have to consider, have been acknowledged ever since the time of Hesiod and doubtless from a period far anterior to that. In his theology it was the lot of the first race of men in the golden age to become after death daemons ‘clothed in air and going to and fro through all the world’ as good guardians of mortal men. But the goodness which Hesiod attributes to the _genii_ of the air was never, I suspect, an essential trait in their character. In Hesiod it is a corollary of the statement that they are the spirits of men who belonged to the golden age; but there is no reason to suppose that the common-folk ever regarded them as more beneficent than other gods and daemons. At any rate at the present day the ἀερικά, or _genii_ of the air, are no better disposed towards mankind than any other supernatural beings.

Of this class as a whole little can be said. The word ἀερικό is applied to almost any apparition too vague and transient to be more clearly defined. It suggests something ‘clothed in air,’ something less tangible, less discernible, than most of the beings whom the peasant recognises and fears. The limits of its usage are hard to fix. It may properly include a Nereid whose passing through the air is the whirlwind, and it will equally certainly exclude a callicantzaros or a dragon. Yet even the Nereids are more substantial than the _genii_ of the air in their truest form; for the assaults of Nereids upon men and women are made, as we have seen, from without[747], while _genii_ of the air are more often supposed to ‘possess’ men in the same way as do devils, and to be liable to exorcism.

But, if the class as a whole is too vague and shadowy in the popular imagination to be capable of exact description, one division of it is more clearly defined and has a generally acknowledged province of

## activity. These particular aërial _genii_ are known as Telonia (τελώνια

or, more rarely, τελωνεῖα). They cannot claim equal antiquity with some of their fellows, for they are, it would seem, a by-product of Christianity, with a certain accretion however of pagan superstition.

The origin of the name Telonia is not in dispute. It means frankly and plainly ‘custom-houses.’ Such is the bizarre materialism of the Greek imagination that the soul in its journeys no less than the body is believed to encounter the embarrassment of custom-houses. An institution which of all things mundane commands least sentiment and sympathy has actually found a place in popular theology. Many of the people indeed at the present day, as I know from enquiry, have ceased to connect their two usages of the word; but others accept as reasonable the belief that the soul in its voyage after death up from the earth to the presence of God must bear the scrutiny of aërial customs-officers.

But, apart from modern belief, the apotheosis of the _douane_ is amply proved by passages cited by Du Cange[748] from early Christian authors. ‘Some spirits,’ says one[749], ‘have been set on the earth, and some in the water, and others have been set in the air, even those that are called “aërial customs-officers” (ἐναέρια Τελώνια).’ Another[750] speaks of ‘the Judge and the prosecutions by the toll-collecting spirits.’ Yet another[751] explains the belief in fuller detail: ‘as men ascend, they find custom-houses guarding the way with great care and obstructing the soaring souls, each custom-house examining for one particular sin, one for deceit, another for envy, another for slander, and so on in order, each passion having its own inspectors and assessors[752].’ Again a prayer for the use of the dying contains the same idea: ‘Have mercy on me, all-holy angels of God Almighty, and save me from all evil Telonia, for I have no works to weigh against my wrong-doings[753].’ Appeal in support of this belief was made even to the authority of Christ as given in the words, ‘Thou fool, this night they require thy soul of thee[754],’ where the commentators explained the vague plural as implying some such subject as ‘toll-collectors’ or ‘custom-house officers[755].’

But the belief does not stop here. One does not pass the custom-houses of this world, or at any rate of Greece, without some expenditure in duty or in _douceur_; and the same apparently holds true of the celestial custom-houses. Hence in some places the belief has generated a practice, or, to speak more exactly, has breathed a new spirit into the old practice of providing the dead with money. My view of the origin of this practice has already been explained; I have given reasons for holding that the coin placed in the mouth of the dead was simply a charm to prevent evil spirits from entering, or the soul from re-entering, into the body, and that the interpretation of the custom, according to which the coin was the fee of the ferryman Charon, was of comparatively late date. At the present day Charon in the _rôle_ of ferryman is almost forgotten; but in his place the Telonia seem locally to have become the recipients of the fee, and the old custom has thus received a second and equally erroneous explanation.

This may have been the idea in the mind of my informant who vaguely said that a coin placed in the mouth of the dead was ‘good because of the aërial beings[756].’ If the particular aërial beings whom he had in mind were the Telonia, he no doubt thought of the coin as a fee payable to them, though in that case it is somewhat strange that he should not have used the name which actually denotes their toll-collecting functions.

But from other sources at any rate comes evidence of a less ambiguous kind that the idea of paying the Telonia for passage is, or has been, a real motive in the minds of the peasantry. In Chios (where however the object actually placed in the mouth of the dead is clearly understood as a precaution against a devil entering the body) it is believed that the soul after death remains for forty days in the neighbourhood of its old habitation, the body, and then making its way to Hades has to pass the Telonia. Happy the soul that makes its voyage on Friday, for then the activities of the Telonia (who in the conception of the islanders are clearly evil spirits and not, as sometimes, the ministers of God) are restrained. But, to appease the Telonia and to ensure the safe passage of the soul, money is distributed to the poor[757]. The same usage obtains also at Sinasos in Cappadocia, and there the money so distributed is actually called τελωνιακά, ‘duty paid at the customs[758].’ The fact that in both these cases the money is now given in alms instead of being buried with the body is clearly a result of Christian influence; before that change was effected, it is reasonably likely that the widely-known practice of placing a coin in the mouth of the dead was explained in some places, though erroneously, by the belief that the dead must pay their way through the aërial custom-houses. The term περατίκι, ‘passage-money,’ by which, in the neighbourhood of Smyrna, is denoted the coin still in that district buried with the dead, has reference possibly to the same Telonia rather than to Charon[759].

Another and wholly different aspect of the Telonia concerns the living and not the dead, while it still exhibits them as true _genii_ of the air. Any striking phenomena of the heavens at night, such as shooting-stars or comets, are believed to be manifestations of the Telonia[760]; but most dreaded of all is the phenomenon known to us as St Elmo’s light, the flame that sometimes flickers in time of storm about the mast-head and yards. This light, the Greek sailor thinks, portends an immediate onset of malevolent aërial powers, whom he straightway tries to scare away by every means in his power, by invocation of saints and incantation against the demons, by firing of guns, and, best of all, by driving a black-handled knife (which is in the Cyclades thought doubly efficacious if an onion has recently been peeled with it) into the mast. For he no longer discriminates as did the Greek mariner of old; then the appearance of two such flames was greeted with gladness as a manifestation of the Dioscuri, the saviours from storm and tempest, and evil was portended only if there appeared a single flame, the token of Helena[761], who wrecked as surely as her twin brothers guarded; now the phenomenon in any form bodes naught but ill. This change is probably due to Christian influences; the seaman no longer looks to any pagan power for succour in time of peril; he accounts St Nicholas his friend and saviour; and the Telonia, who in this province of their activity represent the older order of deities, have become by contrast man’s enemies.

Other vague and incorrect usages of the term Telonia are also recorded. Sometimes it may be heard as a synonym for δαιμόνια, any non-Christian deities. In Myconos it is said to have been applied to the _genii_ of springs[762]. In Athens men used to speak of Telonia of the sea, who like the Callicantzari were abroad only from Christmas until the blessing of the waters at Twelfth-night; and during this time ships were wont to be kept at anchor and secure from their attacks[763]. A belief is also mentioned by Pouqueville[764], in a very confused passage, that children who die unbaptised become Telonia; but the statement is corroborated by Bernhard Schmidt[765], who adduces information of the same belief existing in Zacynthos. The idea at the root of it probably was that unbaptised children could not pass the celestial customs, and were detained there on their road to the other world in order to assist in obstructing the passage of other souls. But these are local variations of the main belief, and, so far as I can see, are of little importance. In general the Telonia are a species of aërial _genius_, and their two activities consist in the collecting of dues from departed souls and assaults upon mariners.

* * * * *

There remain only for consideration the _genii_ of human beings, or the attendant spirits to whom is committed in some way the guidance of men’s lives. To some of them the name _genius_ (i.e. στοιχειό) would hardly perhaps be extended by the peasants; but they all bear the same kind of relation towards men, and may therefore conveniently be grouped together for discussion.

The best example which I know of an acknowledged _genius_ attached to a man is in a story in Hahn’s collection[766], which tells of an old wizard whose life was bound up with that of a ten-headed snake which lived beneath a threshing-floor. Here the monstrous nature of the _genius_ is doubtless intended to match the character of the wizard; ordinary men, unversed in magic, may have _genii_ of a less complex pattern. Thus the snake which so commonly acts as _genius_ to a house is also in many cases regarded as the _genius_ of the head or some other member of the household. When therefore the death-struggle of any person is prolonged, this is sometimes set down to the unwillingness of the _genius_ to permit his death; and in extreme cases of protracted agony recourse has before now been had to a priest, who, entering the sick man’s room alone, reads a special prayer for the sufferer’s release, and by virtue of this solemn office causes the house-snakes, who are pagan _genii_, to burst[767]. With their disruption of course the soul of the dying man is at once set free.

But the guardian spirits of whom the peasants most commonly speak belong to the _personnel_ of Christian theology or demonology, and are therefore not actually numbered among _genii._ These are angels, two of whom are allotted to each man, the one good (ὁ καλὸς ἄγγελος) and the other bad (ὁ κακὸς ἄγγελος). But though the designation _genius_ is not applied to them, in functions angels and _genii_ do not differ. To them belongs the control of a man’s life, the one guiding him in the way of righteousness, and the other diverting him to the pitfalls of vice. Their presence is ever constant, but seldom visible. Sometimes indeed, in stories at any rate, we hear of the good angel appearing to a man and rewarding him in his old age for a virtuous life[768]; and in general men born on Saturday, σαββατογεννημένοι, are reputed to be ἀλαφροστοίχει̯ωτοι[769] and endowed with special powers of seeing and dealing with the supernatural. But most commonly the power to see the guardian angel is granted only to the dying, and the vision is a warning that the end is near. So, when the gaze of a dying man becomes abstracted and fixed, they say in some places βλέπει τὸν ἄγγελό του, or in one word ἀγγελοθωρεῖ[770], ‘he sees his angel,’ or again ἀγγελοσκιάζεται[771], ‘he is terrified of an angel.’ In these expressions it is not clear which of the two angels is intended; but, to judge from other expressions, popular belief recognises the activity of the one or the other according to the peace or pain of the death. ‘He is borne away by an angel,’ ἀγγελοφορᾶται[772], suggests a quiet passing, as of Lazarus who was carried by the angels into Abraham’s bosom; while the word ἀγγελομαχεῖ, ‘he is fighting with an angel,’ an expression used in Laconia of a protracted death-struggle, and again ἀγγελοκρούσθηκε[773], ‘he was stricken by an angel,’ a term which denotes a sudden death, argue rather the presence of the evil angel.

Another kind of _genius_ sometimes associated with men is the ἴσκιος (the modern form of σκιά), the ‘shadow’ personified. The phrase ἔχει καλὸ ἴσκιο, ‘he has a good shadow,’ is used of a man who enjoys good fortune, and he himself is described sometimes as καλοΐσκι̯ωτος[774], ‘good-shadowed,’ that is, ‘lucky.’ But apparently a man may also get into trouble with this shadow no less than with an angel. The word ἰσκιοπατήθηκε, ‘he has been trampled upon by his shadow[775],’ is used occasionally of a man who has been stricken down by some sudden, but not necessarily fatal, illness such as epilepsy or paralysis. This personification of the shadow as _genius_ is perhaps responsible in some measure for the fear which the peasant feels of having the foundation-stone of a building laid upon his shadow; but, as I have said above, the principle of sympathetic magic will explain the cause of fear without this supposition.

To these _genii_ might reasonably be added the Fate (ἡ Μοῖρα or, more rarely, ἡ Τύχη) of each individual. But these lesser Fates, as well as the great Three, have already been discussed, and there is nothing to add here save that by virtue of the close connexion of each lesser Fate with the life of one man these too might be numbered among _genii_.

The same belief in a guardian-deity presiding over each human life is to be found throughout ancient Greek literature. In Homer the name for such a _genius_ is Κὴρ (at any rate if it be of an evil sort), in later writers δαίμων--both of them vague terms which embrace other kinds of deities as well, yet not so vague but that with the aid of context we can readily discover in them the equivalent of the ‘guardian-angel’ or other modern _genius_. From Homer onwards the word λαγχάνειν is regularly used of the allotment of each human life from the moment of birth to one of these guardians, and the belief in their attendance upon men throughout, and even after, life seems to have had general acceptance. In the _Iliad_ the wraith of Patroclus is made to speak of the hateful _Ker_ to whom he was allotted at the hour of birth[776], and the _Ker_ here mentioned is not, I think, merely fate in the abstract but as truly a person as that baneful _Ker_ of battle and carnage ‘who wore about her shoulders a robe red with the blood of heroes[777].’ After Homer the word δαίμων is preferred, but there is no change in the idea. The famous saying of Heraclitus, ἦθος ἀνθρώπῳ δαίμον, ‘the god that guides man’s lot is character,’ is in no wise dark, but Plato throws even clearer light upon the popular belief in guardian-_daemons_. ‘It is said that at each man’s death his _daemon_, the _daemon_ to whom he had been allotted for his lifetime, has the task of guiding him to some appointed place[778],’ where the souls of men must assemble for judgement. Here the words ‘it is said’ indicate the popular source of the doctrine; and this is confirmed by another passage in which Plato[779] protests against the fatalism involved in the allotment of souls to particular _daemons_, and prefers to hold that the soul may choose its own guardian. Again in a fragment of Menander there is a simple statement of the belief in a form which robs fatalism of its gloom:

Beside each man a daemon takes his stand E’en at his birth-hour, through life’s mysteries A guide right good[780].

But there were others who did not take so cheerful a view, at any rate of their own guardian-deities; ‘alas for the most cruel _daemon_ to whom I am allotted[781]’ is a complaint of a type by no means rare in Greek literature, and the word κακοδαίμων came as readily as εὐδαίμων to men’s lips[782].

From these passages it is evident that in general each man was believed to have one, and only one, attendant _genius_, and his happiness or misery to depend on the character of the guardian allotted to him by fate. But sometimes this injustice of destiny was obviated by a belief similar to the modern belief in both good and bad angels in attendance on each man. The comment of Servius on Vergil’s line, ‘Quisque suos patimur manes[783],’ sets forth this view: ‘when we are born two _Genii_ are allotted to us, one who exhorts us to good, the other who perverts us to evil.’

As in modern so in ancient times these _genii_ were rarely visible to the men whom they guarded. The _genius_ of Socrates, which, like those of other men past and present, had been, so he held, divinely appointed to wait upon him from his childhood onward[784], spoke to him indeed in a voice which he could hear[785] (just perhaps as the priestess of Delphi heard the voice of Apollo[786]), but ever remained unseen.

FOOTNOTES:

[107] Pindar, _Nem._ VI. 1

ἓν ἀνδρῶν, ἓν θεῶν γένος· ἐκ μιᾶς δὲ πνέομεν ματρὸς ἀμφότεροι· διείργει δὲ πᾶσα κεκριμένα δύναμις κ.τ.λ.

The opening phrase is often, even usually, translated ‘one is the race of men, another the race of gods.’ Whether ἓν ... ἓν was ever used in Greek for ἄλλο ... ἄλλο, I doubt; but even if it be possible, the emphasis ἓν ... ἓν ... ὲκ μιᾶς must to my mind be an emphasis upon unity, and the first mention of divergence comes equally strongly in διείργει δὲ....

[108] Stobaeus, _Sentent._ p. 279, Πρῶτος Θαλῆς διαιρεῖ ... εἰς θεὸν, εἰς δαίμονας, εἰς ἥρωας.

[109] For dialectic variations of the form, see Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugr._ p. 91.

[110] I. _Cor._ v. 12, I. _Tim._ iii. 7, and elsewhere.

[111] Basil III. 944 A (Migne, _Patrol. Graec._ vol. XXIX.).

[112] Pouqueville, _Voyage de la Grèce_, I. p. 319, writes ‘Pagania.’

[113] In Andros the word is used (in the singular παγανό) to denote an unbaptised child. Cf. Ἀντ. Μηλιαράκης, Ὑπομνήματα περιγραφικὰ τῶν Κυκλάδων νησῶν,--Ἄνδρος, Κέως, p. 45.

[114] _op. cit._ p. 92, referring to Du Cange, τζίνα = fraus, p. 1571.

[115] Δελτίον τῆς Ἱστ. καὶ Ἐθν. Ἑταιρίας, II. p. 122.

[116] Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 97.

[117] _Relation de ce qui s’est passé de plus remarquable à Sant-Erini, isle de l’Archipel, depuis l’etablissement des Pères de la Compagnie de Jesus en icelle_ (Paris, 1657), p. 192 ff.

[118] See below, pp. 255 ff.

[119] See below, pp. 284-7.

[120] Cf. Hesych. σμερδαλέος, σμερδνός = φοβερός, καταπληκτικός, πολεμικός; and σμέρδος = λῆμα, ῥώμη, δύναμις, ὅρμημα.

[121] Bybilakis, _Neugriechisches Leben_, p. 16, and in the periodical Φιλίστωρ, IV. p. 517.

[122] _op. cit._ p. 92.

[123] Steph. _Thesaur._ s.v.

[124] Ἐφημ. τῶν Φιλομαθῶν, anno 1861, p. 1851, quoted by Schmidt, _loc. cit._

[125] Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 92.

[126] _Ibid._

[127] Zenob. _Cent._ III. 3. Cf. Hesych. and Suidas, s.v. Γελλώ.

[128] Cf. Leo Allatius, _de quor. Graec. opin._ cap. III. _ad fin._, quoting Mich. Psellus, πᾶσαν τὴν ἐν τοῖς βρέφεσιν ἀπορροφᾶν ὥσπερ ὑγρότητα.

[129] Artemidorus, _Oneirocritica_, Bk II. cap. 9, p. 90.

[130] _Ibid._ p. 91.

[131] Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugr._ p. 33.

[132] Schmidt, _Märchen_, etc. p. 131.

[133] Soutzos, _Hist. de la Révolution Grecque_, p. 158. Cf. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 27.

[134] Schmidt, _Märchen_, etc. no. XI.

[135] Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, p. 135.

[136] Πανδώρα (periodical) XVI. p. 538, ἅγιε Νικόλα ναύτη.

[137] B. Schmidt, _Märchen_, etc. no. XX.

[138] Plutarch, _de defect. orac._ 17.

[139] _Idyll._ I. 15.

[140] _Ps._ 91. 6.

[141] _De quorumdam Graecorum opinationibus_, cap. VIII.

[142] Du Cange, _Lex. med. et infim. Latin_, s.v.

[143] Clarke, _Catalogue of Sculptures in Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge_.

[144] The population of Eleusis, as of many villages in Attica, is mainly Albanian; but they have inherited many of the old Greek superstitions and customs.

[145] Lenormant, _Monographie de la voie sacrée éleusinienne_, p. 399 ff.

[146] “The diminutive in Albanian of Nicolas is Kolio: in the choice of this name is there not a reminiscence of that of Celeus?”--so Lenormant in a note. The suggestion does not appear to me very probable.

[147] Opposite Eleusis in Salamis.

[148] Euseb. _Chron._ p. 27. Plut. _Vita Thes._ XXXI. _ad fin._

[149] Paus. VIII. 15.

[150] Conon, _Narrat._ 15.

[151] _Tour through Greece_, II. p. 440.

[152] _Travels in the Morea_, III. p. 148.

[153] Paus. VIII. 42. 1-4, and 25. 5.

[154] Schol. in Ar. _Ran._ 441. Aelian, _Hist. Anim._ X. 16.

[155] Frazer, _Golden Bough_, II. 44 ff. (2nd edit.).

[156] Herod. II. 171.

[157] Aelian, _l.c._

[158] Herod. II. 47. Plut. _Isis et Osiris_, 8 (Moral. 354). Aelian, _l.c._

[159] _Märchen_ etc. Song no. 56.

[160] Above, p. 53.

[161] Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. no. VII.

[162] Paus. VIII. 42. 1 ff.

[163] Paus. VIII. 42. 2.

[164] Schuchhardt, _Schliemann’s Excavations_ (tr. Sellers), p. 296.

[165] _Ibid._

[166] Paus. II. 22. 1.

[167] _op. cit._ p. 147.

[168] _op. cit._ p. 302.

[169] Schuchhardt, _op. cit._ p. 151, and Leaf’s introduction, p. XXVII. Cf. Frazer in _Journal of Philology_, XIV. 145 ff.

[170] Schuchhardt, _op. cit._ p. 151.

[171] _op. cit._ p. 303.

[172] Frazer in _Journal of Philology_, XIV. pp. 145 ff.

[173] Paus. I. 18. 3.

[174] _Id._ IX. 36.

[175] _Iliad_ IX. 404-5.

[176] _Griech. und Albanesische Märchen_, nos. 63 and 97.

[177] ‘die Schöne der Erde’ in von Hahn’s translation. Unfortunately the original does not appear in Pio’s Νεοελληνικὰ παραμύθια, for which the MSS. of von Hahn provided the material.

[178] Cf. Plut. _Vita Thes._ 31, _ad fin._

[179] For references see Schmidt, _Das Volksleben der Neugr._ p. 222.

[180] Passow, _Popul. Carm. Graeciae recentioris_. Carm. no. 408.

[181] Χασιώτης, Συλλογὴ τῶν κατὰ τὴν Ἤπειρον δημοτικῶν ἀσμάτων, p. 169.

[182] Passow, _op. cit._ no. 423.

[183] Πολίτης, Μελέτη ἐπὶ τοῦ βίου τῶν νεωτέρων Ἑλλήνων, p. 290.

[184] Bernhard Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. p. 81.

[185] Kindly communicated to me by Mr G. F. Abbott, author of _Macedonian Folklore_.

[186] B. Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. Song no. 39.

[187] Cf. Passow, no. 428.

[188] _Ibid._ no. 430.

[189] Above, p. 53.

[190] _e.g._ Passow, no. 427.

[191] Cf. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 230.

[192] This expression which I have heard several times is not noticed by Schmidt or Polites. They give, however, ἀγγελοκρούεται, ‘he is being stricken by an angel,’ and other phrases meaning to see, to fear, to be carried away by, an angel, all in the same sense. See Schmidt, _op. cit._ 181, and Πολίτης, Μελέτη, κ.τ.λ. 308.

[193] κουμπάρος. The word expresses the relationship in which a godfather stands to the parents of his godson.

[194] This story, as I have told it, is not a literal translation, for I could not take down the original. But notes which I set down after hearing it enable me to reproduce it in a form which certainly contains the whole substance and many actual phrases of the version which I heard.

[195] Probably meaning the brigand’s ‘comrades.’ The term ξεφτέρι, ‘hawk,’ is commonly so applied.

[196] Πολίτης, _op. cit._ p. 246 (from Λελέκης, Δημοτ. ἀνθολ. p. 57).

[197] _e.g._ Passow, _Popul. Carm._ nos. 426-429.

[198] Σακελλάριος, Κυπριακά, vol. III. p. 48. Cf. Πολίτης, _op. cit._ p. 239.

[199] The word for ‘black’ includes the sense of ‘grim,’ ‘gloomy,’ ‘sorrowful.’ Tears are commonly described as ‘black,’ μαῦρα δάκρυα.

[200] Passow, _op. cit._ distich no. 1155.

[201] Cf. Passow, no. 408.

[202] Cf. Passow, nos. 414, 415, 417.

[203] Passow, no. 424.

[204] Aesch. _Eum._ 237.

[205] Fauriel, _Chants populaires de la Grèce Moderne, Discours préliminaire_, p. 85.

[206] Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. Song no. 38.

[207] _Ibid._ no. 37.

[208] Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. Song no. 7.

[209] _Das Volksleben_, p. 237.

[210] _Märchen_ etc. Song no. 10.

[211] Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 272.

[212] Passow, no. 371.

[213] Ἰατρίδης, Συλλογὴ δημοτ. ἀσμάτων, p. 17. Cf. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 236.

[214] So in some districts of Macedonia up to the present day; Abbott, _Macedonian Folklore_, p. 193.

[215] Πρωτόδικος, περὶ τῆς παρ’ ἡμῖν ταφῆς, p. 14. The form περατίκιον which the writer gives can hardly be popular. It might be, as Schmidt points out, περατίκιν in the local dialect. I have given the form which the word would assume in most districts.

[216] Σκορδέλης in the periodical Πανδώρα, XI. p. 449. Cf. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 238.

[217] περὶ πένθους, § 10.

[218] For this term see above, p. 68, and below, p. 283.

[219] Below, p. 285.

[220] See above, p. 13.

[221] Passow, no. 432.

[222] This is shown later to be the first form of the superstition. See below, pp. 433-4.

[223] Newton, _Travels and Discoveries in the Levant_, I. p. 289 (cited by Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 239).

[224] The use of the coin, quite apart from any such variation of the custom, was forbidden by several councils of the Church between the 4th and 7th centuries, cf. Πολίτης, Μελέτη etc. p. 269.

[225] Cf. Ricaud, _Annales des conciles généraux et particuliers_ (1773), vol. I. p. 654 (from Πολίτης, Μελέτη, p. 269).

[226] According to Bent (_Cyclades_, p. 363) the object used thus in Naxos is a wax cross with the initial letters Ι. Χ. Ν. engraved upon it, and it still bears the old name ναῦλον, ‘fare.’

[227] Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, pp. 335 and 339.

[228] Newton, _Travels and Discoveries in the Levant_, I. p. 212. The exact details of the custom in each place are given below, p. 406.

[229] See below, pp. 433-4.

[230] In Rhodes, according to Newton, _l.c._, the Christian symbol Ι. Χ. Ν. Κ. is combined with that to which I now come, the ‘pentacle.’

[231] Cf. Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. 573, where it is said that in Myconos the symbol is sometimes carved on house doors to keep _vrykolakes_ (on which see below, cap. IV.) from troubling the inmates at night.

[232] Cf. Lucian, ὑπὲρ τοῦ ἐν τῇ προσαγορεύσει πταίσματος, 5.

[233] apud Pausan. x. 28. 1.

[234] _e.g._ Eur. _Alc._ 252, 361, _Heracl._ 432, Arist. _Ran._ 184 ff., _Lysistr._ 606, _Plut._ 278.

[235] Suidas s.v.

[236] Pollux, 8, 102.

[237] Pollux, 4, 132.

[238] Strabo, 579.

[239] _Ibid._ 636

[240] _Ibid._ 649.

[241] Plut. _Anton._ 16.

[242] Χάρων θάνατος, s.v.

[243] Eur. _Alc._ 48, 49.

[244] _Ibid._ 74-6.

[245] _Ibid._ 1141-2.

[246] _Ibid._ 50.

[247] Codex Vaticanus, no. 909. Cf. Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 223, whence the majority of these references are borrowed.

[248] VII. 603 and 671; XI. 133. Cf. Schmidt, _l.c._

[249] s.v.

[250] Gerhard, _die Gottheiten der Etrusker_, p. 56; Müller, _die Etrusker_, II. 102.

[251] Ambrosch, _de Charonte Etrusco_, pp. 2, 3.

[252] _Ibid._ p. 8.

[253] _Ibid._ pp. 4-7; and Maury in _Revue Archéologique_, I. 665, and IV. 791.

[254] _Annuaire de l’Association pour l’encouragement des études grecques en France_, no. VIII. (1874), p. 392 ff.

[255] Both fortifications and well are actual features of Acro-Corinth up to the present day.

[256] Pausan. I. 37, _ad fin._; Perrot, _l.c._ Cf. Frazer, _Pausanias_, II. 497.

[257] _Märchen_ etc. _Introduction_, p. 35.

[258] Cf. Bursian, _Geographie von Griechenland_, II. p. 17.

[259] Vréto, _Mélange Néo-hellenique_.

[260] Schmidt, _Märchen_ etc. nos. 16-18.

[261] _Ibid._ p. 113 (note 2).

[262] See below, p. 165.

[263] _Orph. Hymns_, 57 (58), 2.

[264] _Orph. Hymns_, 55, 8. μήτερ ἐρώτων. For representations in ancient art of many ἔρωτες, cf. Philostr. _Eikones_, p. 383 (770).

[265] See above, p. 57.

[266] Tzetzes, _Schol. on Lycophron_, 406.

[267] Pausan. _I._ 19. 2. Cf. _C. I. G._ no. 1444, and Orph. Hymn, 55 (54), 4.

[268] Apparently the old subterranean passage by which competitors entered the stadium.

[269] Mentioned by Pouqueville, _Voyage en Grèce_, V. p. 67, and confirmed by many other writers.

[270] Pausan. X. 38. 6.

[271] Pouqueville, _op. cit._ IV. p. 46.

[272] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστορία τῶν Ἀθηναίων, I. p. 222, III. p. 156. Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 227.

[273] Dodwell, _Tour through Greece_, I. 397.

[274] Πολίτης, _l.c._

[275] _l.c._

[276] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. p. 222.

[277] Cf. ἦτον γραφτό μου, ‘It was my written lot,’ i.e. destiny, and other similar phrases cited by Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 212, and Πολίτης, Μελέτη, pp. 218, 219.

[278] _Choeph._ 464-5, which the Scholiast annotates thus, πέπηγε μὲν καὶ ὥρισται ὑπὸ Μοιρῶν τὸ τὴν Κλυταιμνήστραν ἀνδροκτονήσασαν ἀναιρεθῆναι κ.τ.λ.

[279] I regret to say that I cannot trace the source of this story. I incline to think that I took it from some publication, but it is possible that it was narrated to me personally.

[280] Except in Zacynthos, according to Schmidt (_Volksleben_, p. 211), where they number twelve.

[281] Schmidt, _Volksleben_, p. 220.

[282] _Chants populaires de la Grèce moderne, Discours préliminaire_, p. 83.

[283] According to Bent (_Cyclades_, pp. 292 and 437), the name Erinyes is still applied by the people of Andros and of Kythnos to the evil spirits who cause consumption.

[284] So Pouqueville, _Voyage de la Grèce_, VI. p. 160.

[285] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην., III. pp. 67, 68.

[286] Cf. Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 218.

[287] The visit of the Fate on the day of birth instead of the third day after is unusual.

[288] From Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. pp. 310, 311.

[289] Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 212.

[290] Cf. μόρσιμος of the ‘destined’ bridegroom, in Hom. _Od._ XVI. 392.

[291] Cf. Miss Harrison, _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, pp. 286 ff.

[292] Passow, no. 385.

[293] Heuzey, _Le mont Olympe_, p. 139. I have introduced a few alterations of spelling, mostly suggested by Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 229 (note), _e.g._ τοὐρανοῦ for τοῦ οὐρανοῦ, in order to restore the rather rough metre.

[294] Πολίτης (Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 228, note 1) gives the following references: Wordsworth, _Athens and Attica_, p. 228; Ἐφημ. Φιλομαθῶν, 1868, p. 1479; Passow, _Popul. Carm._ p. 431, besides those to which I have referred in other notes.

[295] _Persae_, 659.

[296] VII. 218.

[297] Πιττάκης, who recorded this version in Ἐφημ. Ἀρχαιολογική, no. 30 (1852), p. 653, spelt the word erroneously κόροιβο; the sound of οι and υ being identical in modern Greek, I have substituted the latter.

[298] _Theog._ 217 and 904.

[299] _Theog._ 217.

[300] _Prom. Vinct._ 516 ff.

[301] Leo Allatius (_de quorumdam Graec. opinationibus_, cap. xx.) quotes from Mich. Psellus (11th century) the ancient form Νηρηΐδες as then in use. He himself (_ibid._ cap. xix.) employs the form Ναραγίδες which was probably the dialectic form of his native Chios. Bern. Schmidt (_Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, pp. 98-9) has brought together a large number of variants now in use, in which the accent fluctuates between the α and the ι, the first vowel is indifferently α, ε or η, the two consecutive vowels αϊ are sometimes contracted to ᾳ, sometimes more distinctly separated by the faintly pronounced letter γ, and lastly an euphonetic α is occasionally prefixed to the word. Hence forms as widely distinct as ἀνερᾷδες and ναραγίδες often occur. Du Cange, it may be added, gives the form Ναγαρίδες (with interchange of the ρ and the inserted γ); but since his information is seemingly drawn entirely from Leo Allatius, there is reason to regard it as merely his own error in transcribing Ναραγίδες.

[302] An attempt has been made by one authority on the folk-lore of Athens (Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστορία τῶν Ἀθηναίων, I. pp. 218 and 222), to distinguish καλοκυρᾶδες from νεράϊδες. He maintains that in Athens the latter were never regarded as maleficent beings, and must therefore be distinguished from the dread καλοκυρᾶδες, whom he seeks to identify, on no better ground than the euphemistic name, with the Eumenides. A folk-story, however, which he himself records (_ibid._ p. 319), how a καλοκυρά was married to a prince, whose eyes she had blinded to all other women, and how after living with him for a while she disappeared finally in a whirlwind, reveals in her all the usual traits of a Nereid, and thus defeats the writer’s previous contention. But apart from this a little enquiry on the subject outside the limits of Athens would have set at rest his doubts as to the identity of the two. It is quite possible that formerly in Athens, as now elsewhere, it was usual to employ the euphemism καλοκυρᾶδες in referring to the Nereids in their more mischievous moods; only in that way can I explain his idea that the Nereids were never maleficent.

[303] Cf. Passow, _Distich_ 692; Pashley, _Travels in Crete_, vol. II. p. 233; Πανδώρα, XIV. p. 566; Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 104.

[304] Cf. Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 105.

[305] The latter is quoted by Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 106, from the dialect of Arachova near Delphi.

[306] Cf. Bern. Schmidt, _l. c._; Bybilakis, _Neugriechisches Leben_, p. 13.

[307] Pind. _Nem._ V. 36.

[308] Hom. _Od._ 13. 102 ff.

[309] Cf. e.g. Passow, _Popularia Carmina_, Distichs 552-3.

[310] Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, vol. I. no. 15. ‘Ihre ganze Kraft steckt aber in den Kleidern, und wenn man ihnen die wegnimmt, so sind sie machtlos.’

[311] To form a chain of dancers the leader, who occupies the extreme right, is linked to the second in the row by a kerchief, while the rest merely join hands. More freedom of motion is thus allowed to the chief performer.

[312] Cf. also Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, vol. II. no. 77. Ἀντ. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 123.

[313] The crowing of the third cock is more usually the signal for the departure of Nereids and their kind. It is commonly held that the white cock crows first, the red second, and the black third. The last is a sure saviour from the assaults of all manner of demons.

[314] Similar transformations occur in a Cretan story, the forms assumed being those of dog, snake, camel, and fire. Χουρμούζης, Κρητικά, p. 69.

[315] Cf. Apollodorus, III. 13. 5.

[316] Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 104, quoting Ritschl, _Ino Leucothea_, Pl. I., II. (1 and 2), III.; and referring to a sarcophagus in the Corsini Gallery at Rome, figured in _Monum. Ined._ vol. VI. Pl. XXVI.

[317] Hom. _Od._ 5. 346 sqq. and 459 sqq.

[318] Ἀντ. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 123.

[319] The women of Scopelos on certain festal occasions wear a dress which may well be the same as the classical ὀρθοστάδιον, a loose pleated robe falling from the shoulders and widening as it falls, so that their figures resemble a fluted column too broad at the base and too tapering at the top.

[320] Hahn, _Griechische Märchen_, vol. II. no. 83. Χουρμούζης, Κρητικά, p. 69.

[321] Cf. a folk-song quoted by Ross, _Reisen auf Inseln_, III. p. 180,

Σὲ μονοδένδριν μὴ ἀναιβῇς, ’στοὺς κάμπους μὴ καταίβῃς, καὶ ’στὸν ἀπάνω ποταμὸν μὴ παίζῃς τὸ περνιαῦλι, κῂ ἐρθοῦν καὶ μονομαζευθοῦν τοῦ ποταμοῦ ’νερᾷδες,

‘Go not up to the solitary tree, go not down to the lowlands, beside the torrent above play not thy pipes, lest the Nereids of the stream come and swarm thick about thee.’

[322] Lexicon, s.v. ῥάμνος, ἐν ταῖς γενέσεσι τῶν παιδίων χρίουσι (πίττῃ) τὰς οἰκίας εἰς ἀπέλασιν τῶν δαιμόνων.

[323] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστορία τῶν Ἀθηναίων, III. p. 32.

[324] Cf. Welcker, _Kleine Schriften_, 3. 197-9; Rohde, _Psyche_, I. p. 360, note 1.

[325] Cf. Hom. _Od._ XI. 48 ff. and Eustathius, _ad loc._

[326] Ζ. Δ. Γαβαλᾶς, Ἡ νῆσος Φολέγανδρος, p. 29.

[327] _Reisen auf Inseln_, etc. III. pp. 181-2.

[328] _C.I.G._, no. 6201 (from Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, etc. p. 122 note). Τοῖς πάρος οὖν μύθοις πιστεύσατε· παῖδα γὰρ ἐσθλὴν | ἥρπασαν ὡς τερπνὴν Ναΐδες, οὐ Θάνατος.

[329] Ἐμ. Μανωλακάκης, Καρπαθιακά, p. 129. There are also compounds ἐξωπαρμένος and ἀλλοπαρμένος with the same meaning.

[330] Plato, _Phaedr._ XV. (238 D).

[331] _Ibid._ 229 A, B; 230 B; 242 A; 279 B.

[332] Cf. Leo Allatius, _De quor. Graec. opin._ cap. xx. ‘potissimum si fluentis aquarum solum irrigetur.’

[333] To this belief I attribute the origin of the phrase ὥρα τὸν ηὗρε, ‘an (evil) hour overtook him’ (Leo Allatius, _op. cit._ xix.), employed euphemistically in reference to ‘seizure’ by the Nereids, and of the kindred imprecation, κακὴ ὥρα νά σ’ εὕρῃ, ‘may an evil hour overtake you’ (Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 97), which gains in force and elegance by its reversal of an ordinary phrase of leave-taking, ὥρα καλή.

[334] See above, p. 79.

[335] Leo Allatius, _op. cit._ xix.

[336] From Epirus, Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 120. See above, p. 142, note 2.

[337] Cf. Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 120.

[338] I. p. 473 (Migne, _Patrolog. Graeco-Lat._ vol. XCIV. p. 1604).

[339] See above, p. 13.

[340] Cf. Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, Vol. II. no. 80.

[341] _The Cyclades_, p. 457.

[342] Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, p. 369.

[343] ἡ Λάμια τοῦ πελάγου. Cf. the periodical Παρνασσός IV. p. 773, and Wachsmuth, _Das alte Griechenland im Neuen_, p. 30. See also below, pp. 171 ff.

[344] _Histoire de la Révolution grecque_, p. 228 note.

[345] Hor. _Carm._ III. 28. 10.

[346] Ἰ. Σαραντίδου Ἀρχελάου, Ἡ Σινασός, p. 90.

[347] Εὐαγγελία Κ. Καπετανάκης, Λακωνικὰ Περίεργα, pp. 43 sqq.

[348] Cf. Παρνασσός, IV. p. 669 (1880).

[349] So according to Theodore Bent (_Cyclades_, p. 496) but perhaps inaccurately.

[350] So Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 101, following Βάλληνδας in Ἐφημερὶς τῶν Φιλομαθῶν, 1861, p. 1826; and Bent, _loc. cit._

[351] In this view Prof. Πολίτης of Athens University, whom I consulted, concurs with me.

[352] Cf. Παρνασσός, IV. p. 669, Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 97.

[353] Cf. Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, etc. p. 101.

[354] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθηναίων, I. p. 223.

[355] Travels in Crete, II. pp. 232-4.

[356] I cannot vouch for the accuracy of my translation of this word, which I have never seen or heard elsewhere.

[357] Cf. Leo Allatius, _op. cit._ cap. xix.

[358] Cf. Ἰον. Ἀνθολογία, III. p. 509. Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, vol. II. no. 81.

[359] _C.I.G._ no. 997 (from Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 122 note).

[360] Παρνασσός, IV. p. 765. The origin of the second part of the compound is unknown.

[361] Ἀρχαιολογικὴ Ἐφημερίς, 1852, p. 647.

[362] Cf. Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστορία τῶν Ἀθηναίων, III. p. 156.

[363] Theotokis, _Détails sur Corfou_, p. 123.

[364] Theocr. _Id._ v. 53-4 and 58-9.

[365] Kindly communicated to me by Mr Abbott, author of _Macedonian Folklore_.

[366] Hom. _Od._ XIII. 105-6.

[367] See Miss Harrison, _Prolegomena to the study of Greek Religion_, p. 423.

[368] Οἰκονόμος, Περὶ προφορᾶς, p. 768.

[369] Ἀντ. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 131 and Σκαρλάτος, Λεξικὸν τῆς καθ’ ἡμᾶς Ἑλληνικῆς γλῶσσης, s.v. δρίμαις.

[370] Σκορδίλης, in Πάνδωρα, XI. p. 472; cf. Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 130.

[371] Cited by Bern. Schmidt, _ibid._ from Βρετός, Ἐθν. Ἡμερολ. 1863, p. 55. This reference I have been unable to verify.

[372] In Macedonia.

[373] Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, p. 359.

[374] Wachsmuth in _Rhein. Mus._ 1872.

[375] _Orph. Hymns_, 36 (35), 12.

[376] Alexis, _Fragm. Fab. Incert._ 69.

[377] Verg. _Georg._ IV. 336.

[378] Tzetzes, _Lycophron_, 536.

[379] _ibid._ 522.

[380] Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχέλαος, Ἡ Σινασός, p. 85.

[381] Ἐμ. Μανωλακάκης, Καρπαθιακά, p. 189. In Carpathos however the three middle and three last days of August are added.

[382] Ἀντ. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 131.

[383] Σακελλάριος, Κυπριακά, vol. I. p. 710.

[384] Theodore Bent (_Cyclades_, p. 174) says that the word δρύμαις is used in Sikinos to mean actually the sores on limbs, and in other islands the holes in linen caused by washing during Aug. 1-6. But as he appears to have been unaware that δρύμαις usually means the days themselves, I question the accuracy of his statement.

[385] Σακελλάριος, Κυπριακά, I. p. 710, who derives the word from κακὸς and Α(ὔγ)ουστος.

[386] Anthol. Palat. VI. 189.

[387] Verg. _Georg._ IV. 383.

[388] Σκορδίλης, in Πανδώρα, XI. p. 472.

[389] I give both these words as I received them, but cannot account for the abnormal accents. Ἄλουστος and either Ἀλουστιναίς or Ἀλούστιναις would be usual. As regards the whole form Ἀλούστος, it cannot I think be a dialectic change of Αὔγουστος, but is probably a pun upon it with reference to the custom of not washing during the first days of the month.

[390] Σκαρλάτος, Λεξικόν, s.v. δρίμαις.

[391] Modern πρινάρι, ancient πρῖνος.

[392] Hesiod, _Fragm. apud_ Plutarch. _De Orac. Defect._ p. 415.

[393] Cf. also Schol. _ad_ Apoll. Rhod. II. 479, where Mnesimachus is quoted for the same opinion.

[394] _O. T._ 1099.

[395] _Nat. Hist._ IX. cap. 5.

[396] _Lycophron_, 480.

[397] _Hom. Hymns_, III. 256 sqq.

[398]

ἑστᾶσ’ ἠλίβατοι· τεμένη δέ ἑ κικλήσκουσιν ἀθάνατων· τὰς δ’ οὔτι βροτοὶ κείρουσι σιδήρῳ.

These two lines (267-8) have fallen under suspicion because, it is urged, the word ἀθανάτων is in direct contradiction of what has been said as to the intermediate position of nymphs between mortals and immortals. This criticism is due to careless reading. The lines do not mean that each tree is called the τέμενος of an immortal nymph, but that a number of trees, each inhabited by a nymph, often form together the τέμενος of an immortal god. A sanctuary of Artemis, for example, might well be surrounded by trees which each harboured one of her attendant nymphs.

[399] Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, II. no. 84. Cf. also no. 58.

[400] Χουρμούζης, Κρητικά, pp. 69, 70.

[401] This belief however is not universal in Greece; in some few districts a Nereid now, like a wolf in ancient times, is safer seen first than seeing first.

[402] Apoll. Rhod. _Argon._ II. 477 sqq.

[403] i.e. past participle passive of ξεραίνω (anc. ξηραίνω).

[404] Hom. _Od._ XIII. 103-4.

[405] _De quorumdam Graec. opinat._ cap. xix.

[406] _Id._ XIII. 39 sqq.

[407] So I translate χελιδόνιον on the authority of a muleteer whom I hired at Olympia; the modern form is χελιδόνι. It may be added that in Greece the cuckoo-flower is often of a dark enough shade to justify the epithet κυάνεον.

[408] Artem. _Oneirocr._ II. 27.

[409] Cf. Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 102. Χουρμούζης, Κρητικά, p. 69. Δελτίον τῆς Ἱιστορ. καὶ Ἐθνολ. Ἑταιρίας τῆς Ἑλλάδος, II. p. 122.

[410] Inscription on rock at entrance now barely legible. Cf. Paus. X. 32. 5, Strabo IX. 3, Aesch. _Eum._ 22.

[411] Cf. Ulrichs, _Reisen und Forschungen in Griechenland_, I. p. 119, Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 103.

[412] Heuzey, _Le mont Olympe et l’Acarnanie_, pp. 204-5.

[413] Hom. _Od._ VI. 105.

[414] Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 107. The title ἡ μεγάλη κυρά must not be confused with the title ἡ κυρὰ τοῦ κόσμου (see above p. 89), which belongs to Demeter.

[415] _Ibid._

[416] Cf. Paus. VIII. 35. 8, whence it appears probable that the nymph Καλλιστώ was once identical with Artemis; see Preller, _Griech. Mythol._ p. 304.

[417] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. p. 227.

[418] Apoll. Rhod. III. 877. Callim. _Hymn to Artemis_, 15.

[419] From Onorio Belli, _Descrizione dell’ isola di Candia_, in Museum of Classical Antiqu., vol. II. p. 271. Cf. B. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 108. Spratt, _Trav. in Crete_, I. p. 146.

[420] Du Cange, _Gloss. med. et infim. Latin._ s.v. _Diana_.

[421] Above, p. 119.

[422] _Orph. Hymn_ 36 (35) _ad fin._

[423] _De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. xx.

[424] For these two names see above, p. 21.

[425] For the _Callicantzari_ see below, p. 190.

[426] For _Burcolakes_ or _Vrykolakes_ see below, cap. IV.

[427] _pulcras dominas_, a translation of the Nereids’ title καλὰς ἀρχόντισσας, _ibid._ cap. XIX.

[428] The title-page of this exceedingly rare work runs as follows:--

La description et histoire de l’isle de Scios ou Chios par Jerosme Justinian

Gentil’homme ordinaire de la chambre du Roy Tres-Chrestien, fils de Seigneur Vincent Justinian, l’un des Seigneurs de la dite Isle, Chevalier de l’ordre de sa Majesté, Conseiller en son Conseil d’Estat et Privé, et Ambassadeur extraordinaire du Roy, auprez de Sultan Selin, Grand Seigneur de Constantinople.

M.D.VI.

In the copy formerly belonging to the historian Finlay and now in the possession of the British School of Archaeology at Athens is found a note by Finlay as follows:--‘Joh. Wilh. Zinkeisen in Geschichte des osmanischen Reiches in Europa (Gotha, 1854), vol. ii. p. 90, note 2, mentions a second printed copy as existing in the Mazarine Library at Paris, and a manuscript copy in possession of Justiniani family at Genoa. The date according to Zinkeisen should be not MDVI but MDCVI.’ There is no designation of the press or place from which the volume issued.

[429] _op. cit._ bk vi. p. 59.

[430] See above, p. 140.

[431] _Das Volksleben der Neugriechen_, pp. 107 and 123.

[432] Compare _Märchen_, etc. Song 56 and Stories 7, 19, with _Das Volksleben_, p. 123.

[433] Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 129.

[434] See above, p. 121.

[435] Also in one word καλλικυρᾶδες or καλοκυρᾶδες.

[436] Cf. Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 227; Pouqueville, _Voyage en Grèce_, VI. p. 160; and above, p. 125.

[437] _Reisen auf dem griech. Inseln_, III. pp. 45 and 182.

[438] In Ἐφημ. Ἀρχαιολογική, 1852, p. 648.

[439] Passow, _Pop. Carm. Graec. Recent._ no. 524.

[440] Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 130.

[441] Curt. Wachsmuth, _Das alte Griechenland im Neuen_, p. 31. Cf. also Παρνασσός, IV. p. 773 (1880).

[442] Cf. Theodore Bent, _The Cyclades_, p. 144, who mentions also the custom of shooting at the waterspout as a precaution.

[443] Curt. Wachsmuth, _op. cit._ p. 30.

[444] Schol. ad Apoll. Rhod. IV. 828, cited by Wachsmuth, _loc. cit._

[445] For passages from authors of the 11th century and onwards see Leo Allatius, _De quor. Graec. opin._ cap. iii., and Grimm, _Deutsche Mythologie_, II. 1012.

[446] Aristophanes, _Frogs_, 293.

[447] Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 133.

[448] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. p. 224.

[449] _Vespae_, 1177, and _Pax_, 758.

[450] e.g. Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, no. 4.

[451] Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. p. 193.

[452] Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, no. 4. Cf. Πολίτης, _l.c._

[453] Πολίτης, _l.c._

[454] e.g. Hahn, _Griech. Märchen_, nos. 4 and 32.

[455] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. p. 156.

[456] Ἐφημ. Ἀρχαιολογική, 1852, p. 653, and Δελτίον τὴς Ἱστορ. καὶ Ἐθνολ. Ἑταιρ. II. p. 135.

[457] A few instances are collected by Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 141.

[458] See Preller, _Griech. Myth._ p. 618.

[459] Τὰ ἐς τὸν Τυανέα Ἀπολλώνιον, IV. 25 (p. 76).

[460] _Metamorph._ I. cap. 11-19.

[461] Lucian, _Philopseudes_, § 2. Strabo, I. p. 19. Schol. ad Arist. _Vesp._ 1177.

[462] See above, pp. 147-8.

[463] _The Cyclades_, p. 496.

[464] γιαλός = ancient αἰγιαλός, ‘the shore.’

[465] The differences in sound between γι and γ before ε, and between λ and λλ, are negligible. In many words and dialects there are none.

[466] _De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. iii.-viii.

[467] Zenob. _Cent._ III. 3. Suidas s.v. Γελλοῦς παιδοφιλωτέρα (a proverb). Hesych. s.v. Γελλώ.

[468] The date is approximate only; for the authorship of the work in question is, I understand, disputed.

[469] This is merely a Latinised plural form; the Greek plural regularly ends in -δες.

[470] This word is recorded as still in use by Wachsmuth, _Das alte Griechenland im Neuen_, p. 78.

[471] _op. cit._ cap. viii.

[472] Cf. above, p. 174, where however the accent is given as belonging to the first syllable. The actual spelling in Allatius is Μωρρᾷ. The word in form Μορῆ also occurs in conjunction with the mention of Striges and Geloudes in a MS. of νομοκανόνες obtained by Dr W. H. D. Rouse. See _Folklore_, vol. X. no. 2, p. 151.

[473] Probably from Low Latin ‘_burdo_’ = _milvus_, a kite.

[474] Compounded from Low Latin ‘_bardala_’ = _alauda_, a lark. A form ἀναβαρδοῦ occurs in a similar list of names cited by Dr Rouse from a MS. on magic. See _Folklore_, _l.c._ p. 162. The names said to have been extorted by the Archangel Michael begin there with στρίγλα, γιλοῦ, and belong clearly to a similar female demon.

[475] The spelling in the text of Allatius before me is ψυχρανωσπάστρια.

[476] Theo. Bent, _The Cyclades_, p. 496.

[477] Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ XI. 39.

[478] Hyginus, _Fabul._ 28, emend. Barth.

[479] _Fasti_, VI. 131 ff.

[480] The same apparently as the στρίγλος of Hesychius. The Greek peasants are very vague about the names of any birds other than those which they eat.

[481] I. p. 473 (περὶ Στρυγγῶν), Migne, _Patrol. Graeco-Lat._ vol. XCIV., p. 1604.

[482] The word is εἰσοικίζει which suggests rather the ‘possession’ of children by Striges as by devils. This however could hardly represent fairly the popular belief.

[483] Quoted by Leo Allatius, _op. cit._ cap. iii.

[484] So also in Albania, Hahn, _Alb. Studien_, I. 163.

[485] From Πολίτης, Μελέτη κ.τ.λ. pp. 179-181.

[486] Αδαμάντιος Ἰ. Ἀδαμαντίου, Τηνιακά, pp. 293 sqq.

[487] Du Cange, _Gloss. med. et infim. Latin._ s.vv. ‘Diana’ and ‘Striga.’

[488] _Ibid._

[489] A witch of Santorini told me that she had a narrow escape from being burnt for a much less heinous crime, failure to get rain. See above, p. 49.

[490] Πολίτης in Παρνασσός, II. p. 261 (1878).

[491] Πολίτης, _ibid._ p. 260.

[492] Πολίτης, _ibid._ pp. 266-8.

[493] Σκαρλάτος, Λεξικόν, s.v. (Πολίτης, _l.c._).

[494] Ἐφημ. τῶν Φιλομαθῶν, 1860, p. 1272 (Πολίτης, _l.c._).

[495] Νεοελληνικὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, II. p. 191 (Πολίτης, _l.c._).

[496] Ἀδαμάντιος Ν. Ἀδαμαντίου, Τηνιακά, pp. 293 ff. Cf. above, p. 183. The forms used are ἡ γοργόνα, τὸ γοργόνι, and γοργονικὸ παιδί.

[497] Ἐφημ. τῶν Φιλομαθῶν, 1871, p. 1843 (Πολίτης _l.c._).

[498] Published by E. Legrand in _Collection de monuments de la langue néo-hellénique_, no. 16, from two MSS. nos. 929 and 930 in Paris (Bibliothèque Nationale).

[499] See above, p. 173.

[500] Passow, _Carm. Popul._ no. 337.

[501] The date assigned is, I believe, not certain, but is not of great importance.

[502] _De monstris et beluis_, edited by Berger de Xivrey in _Traditions Tératologiques_, p. 25. Πολίτης, _l.c._

[503] _Theog._ 270-288.

[504] Cf. Pind. _Ol._ XIII. 90.

[505] Kuhn in _Zeitschrift für vergleichende Sprachforschung_, vol. I. pp. 460-1, connects γοργώ with γάργαρα and Sanskr. _garya, garyana_, in sense of ‘the noise of the waves.’ Cf. Maury, _Hist. des relig. de la Grèce antique_, I. p. 303.

[506] No. 1002, found at Athens; date 600 B.C. or earlier.

[507] No. 534, from Corinth; date about 550 B.C.

[508] Πολίτης, _l.c._ p. 269.

[509] Hom. _Od._ XII. 73 ff.

[510] _Aen._ IV. 327.

[511] Παραδόσεις, part ii. of the series Μελέται περὶ τοῦ βίου καὶ τῆς γλώσσης τοῦ Ἑλληνικοῦ λαοῦ.

[512] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. p. 1293.

[513] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. 1295.

[514] _De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. ix.

[515] Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. 1245.

[516] _Ibid._ II. 1245. It might equally well however, as Polites suggests, mean ‘deceivers,’ from the active πλανάω, ‘to lead astray.’

[517] So explained by Πολίτης, _op. cit._ 1247.

[518] _Ibid._ II. 1245.

[519] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. p. 370 (from Syra).

[520] _Ibid._ II. 1293 (from Myconos).

[521] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. p. 230.

[522] Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. p. 1291. In the Museum they are numbered 10333-4.

[523] Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, p. 367.

[524] Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. p. 1323.

[525] Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 148, and Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. p. 333.

[526] Leo Allatius (_De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. ix.) makes the period a week only, ending on New Year’s Day.

[527] For dialectic varieties of this name from Macedonia, the Peloponnese, Crete, and some of the Cyclades, see Πολίτης, Παραδ., II. 1256.

[528] ὁ μεγάλος or ὁ πρῶτος καλλικάντζαρος. Also, according to Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. p. 369, ὁ ἀρχικαλλικάντζαρος. In Constantinople (acc. to Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. 343) he has a proper name Μαντρακοῦκος, which however I cannot interpret satisfactorily.

[529] ὁ κουτσοδαίμονας, or simply ὁ κουτσὸς, ὁ χωλός. Cf. B. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, pp. 152-4.

[530] The sequence of these cocks varies locally; their order is sometimes black, white, red.

[531] Lucian, _Philops._ cap. 14.

[532] So Leo Allatius, _De quor. Graec. opin._ cap. ix.

[533] Several other versions in the same vein are recorded, cf. B. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 151, Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. pp. 337-41 and II. p. 1305.

[534] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. p. 372.

[535] For this version see Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. I. p. 229.

[536] See above, p. 149.

[537] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. p. 338 (from Samos).

[538] Mod. Gk χαμολι̯ό, Anc. χαμαιλέων.

[539] Ἐφημ. τῶν Φιλομαθῶν, 1862, p. 1909.

[540] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. 347.

[541] _Ibid._ I. 356.

[542] _Ibid._ I. 338.

[543] _Ibid._ I. 342.

[544] ψίχα, ψίχα λουκάνικο, κομμάτι ξεροτήγανο, νὰ φᾶν οἱ Καλλικάντζαροι, νὰ φύγουνε ’στὸν τόπο τους. For other versions see B. Schmidt, _Das Volksl._ p. 150, and Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. 342.

[545] Cf. Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. 154.

[546] Cf. Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. p. 357.

[547] _Ibid._ II. p. 1308.

[548] Abbott, _Maced. Folklore_, p. 74.

[549] _Voyage de la Grèce_, VI. p. 157.

[550] Δελτίον τῆς Ἱστορ. καὶ Ἐθνολ. Ἑταιρ. τῆς Ἑλλάδος, II. pp. 137-141.

[551] Ἰ. Μιχαήλ, Μακεδονικά, p. 39. Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. 1251 note 2.

[552] _loc. cit._

[553] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. pp. 66 and 156.

[554] Παραδόσεις, i. p. 334.

[555] The word means literally men whose attendant _genii_ ( στοιχει̯ά, on which see the next section) are ‘light’ ( ἀλαφρός) instead of being solid and steady. The temperament of such persons is ill-balanced in ordinary affairs, but peculiarly sensitive to supernatural influences; it often involves the gift of second sight and other similar faculties.

[556] Supernatural donkeys with the same habits are known also in Crete under the name of ἀνασκελᾶδες (prob. formed from ἀνάσκελα, ‘on one’s back,’ the position in which the rider soon finds himself).

[557] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. p. 342, from Γ. Λουκᾶς, Φιλολ. ἐπισκ. p. 12.

[558] Πολίτης, Παραδ. I. 338.

[559] Luke iii. 22.

[560] Cf. above, p. 67.

[561] _De quorundam Graec. opinat._ cap. X.

[562] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. p. 1286.

[563] Ἐμαν. Μανωλακάκης, Καρπαθιακά, p. 130.

[564] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις I. p. 344.

[565] The word ζωτικά which is sometimes heard in the Cyclades is, I suspect, merely a corrupt form of ξωτικά (on which see above, p. 67); some writers however have derived it from the root of ζάω. But at any rate in usage it denotes the same class of beings as the commoner form ξωτικά.

[566] _op. cit._ cap. X. Actually the earliest reference to the Callicantzari which I have found occurs in _La description et histoire de l’isle de Scios ou Chios_ by Jerosme Justinian, p. 61, where he says, _Ils tiennent ... qu’il y a de certains esprits qui courent par les grands chemins, et sont nommez Calican, Saros_. But inasmuch as he does not record even the name correctly, his statement that these beings are _esprits_ can have little weight as against that of Leo Allatius.

[567] _Das Volksleben_, p. 143.

[568] Παραδόσεις, I. pp. 331-81, and II. pp. 1242-4.

[569] Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. 1257.

[570] _The Cyclades_, pp. 360 and 388. Bent does not seem to have known the ordinary form καλλικάντζαροι.

[571] Abbott, _Maced. Folklore_, p. 73.

[572] Λαμπρίδης, Ζαγοριακά, p. 209.

[573] In this, the ordinary, sense the word appears twice in Passow’s _Popularia Carm._ nos. 142 and 200. See also his index, s.v. καλιουντσήδαις. The Turks themselves borrowed the word _qālioum_ (our ‘galleon’) from the Franks.

[574] Πολίτης, Παραδ. II. pp. 1242 and 1244.

[575] _Das Volksleben_, p. 144.

[576] Schmidt, it should be said, was dubious about the existence of this form.

[577] In Bianchi, _Dict. Turc- fr._ II. p. 469, it is translated ‘loup-garou,’ Schmidt, _l.c._

[578] Schmidt, _l.c._ note 2, ‘esclave de la plus mauvaise espèce.’

[579] The previous relations between the Giustiniani, who controlled the Genoese chartered company in Chios, and the Ottoman Empire seem to have been purely commercial.

[580] Quoted by Leo Allat. _de quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. ix. and published in full by Σάθας.

[581] If this was the origin of Suidas’ information, as seems almost certain in view of its inaccuracy, his date cannot be earlier than that of Psellus (flor. circa 1050).

[582] d’Arnis, _Lexicon Med. et Infim. Latin._, explains _babuztus_ (with other forms _babulus_, _baburrus_, and _baburcus_) by the words _stultus_, _insanus_.

[583] J. B. Navon, _Rouz Namé_, in the periodical _Fundgruben Orients_, Vienna, 1814, vol. IV. p. 146, quoted by Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. p. 1249, note 1.

[584] Ἄτακτα, IV. p. 211.

[585] In the periodical Πανδώρα, 1866, XVI. p. 453.

[586] Μελέτη, p. 73, note 6.

[587] Παραδόσεις, II. pp. 1252-3.

[588] The word καλίκι or καλίγι is a diminutive form from the Latin _caliga_. Besides its original meaning ‘shoe,’ it has acquired now the sense of ‘hoof.’ The transition was clearly through the sense of ‘horse-shoe,’ as witness the verb καλιγόνω, ‘I shoe a horse.’

[589] This word has to be written with β to give the _v_-sound of υ following ε. The ε drops, and the υ cannot then be used alone, for except after α and ε it is sounded as a vowel.

[590] Polites backs up this meaning by deriving _baboutzicarios_ (on which see above, p. 217) from παποῦτσι (Arabic _bābouch_) ‘a shoe,’ but reluctantly refuses to accept the identification of καλιοντζῆς (above, p. 215) with γαλόντζης, a maker of γαλόντσας or ‘wooden shoes.’ Παραδ. II. 1253.

[591] Their Greek character is strongly emphasized by Balsamon, pp. 230-1. (Vol. 137 of Migne, _Patrol. Gr.-Lat._)

[592] _loc. cit._

[593] Photius, _Biblioth._ 254, pp. 468-9, ed. Bekker, μυσαρὰς καὶ μιαιφόνους τελετάς.

[594] _Ibid._ δαιμονιώδης καὶ βδελυκτὴ ἑορτή.

[595] _Ibid._ ὡς ἐνθέσμοις ἔργοις τοῖς ἀθεμίτοις καλλωπιζόμενοι.

[596] Usener, _Acta S. Timothei_, p. 11 (Bonn).

[597] Migne, _Patrol. Gr.-Lat._ Vol. 40, p. 220.

[598] Edited by Cumont.

[599] Balsamon, _loc. cit._

[600] Παραδόσεις, II. pp. 1273-4. To this work I am indebted for most of my instances of these celebrations during the ‘Twelve Days.’

[601] _Annual of the British School at Athens_, VI. p. 125.

[602] Abbott, _Macedonian Folklore_, p. 31.

[603] R. M. Dawkins, in _Journal of Hellenic Studies_, Vol. 26, Part II. (1906), p. 193.

[604] Dawkins, _op. cit._ p. 201, referring to a pamphlet, περὶ τῶν ἀναστεναρίων καὶ ἄλλων τινῶν παραδόξων ἐθίμων καὶ προλήψεων, ὑπὸ Ἀ. Χουρμουρζιάδου, Constantinople, 1873, p. 22.

[605] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθ. III. p. 162.

[606] _loc. cit._

[607] The word is certainly in my experience rare, and is not given in Skarlatos’ Lexicon. But it occurs e.g. in a popular tradition from Thessaly concerning the Callicantzari, in Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. p. 356.

[608] Λεξικὸν τῆς καθ’ ἡμᾶς Ἑλληνικῆς διαλέκτου, s.v. κατσιασμένος.

[609] Plutarch, _de εἰ apud Delphos_, 9 (p. 389).

[610] Balsamon, p. 231 (Migne, _Patrol. Gr.-Lat._ Vol. 137).

[611] Ulpian, _ad Dem._ p. 294. Cf. also Balsamon, _loc. cit._

[612] Müller and Donaldson, _History of the Literature of Ancient Greece_, I. p. 382.

[613] Smith, _Dictionary of Greek and Roman Antiquities_, s.v. _Dionysia_.

[614] See above, p. 151.

[615] I write _d_ in the place of the Greek τ, which when following ν always has the sound of English _d_.

[616] It is probably formed from τέντα, ‘a tent,’ which clearly comes from the Latin. Some however derive directly from the anc. Gk τιταίνω. The question of origin however does not affect my illustration of the later change of τ into τσ.

[617] Heard in Sciathos and kindly communicated to me by Mr A. J. B. Wace.

[618] Pliny, _Nat. Hist._ xxv. 6; Dioscor. v. 45; Sophocles Byzant. _Lexicon_, s.v. ἀρκεύθινος οἶνος.

[619] Marcellus Empir., cap. 20 (p. 139).

[620] _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, p. 380.

[621] Lucian, _Zeuxis_, cap. 6.

[622] Nonnus, _Dionys._ 13. 44 καὶ λασίων Σατύρων, Κενταυρίδος αἶμα γενέθλης. This reference I owe to Miss Harrison, _l. c._

[623] _Iliad_, II. 743.

[624] Lucian, _Zeuxis_, cap. 5.

[625] Isaiah xxxiv. 14.

[626] I cannot of course absolutely affirm that the word is extinct in every dialect even now; but the only suggestion of its use which I can find is in a story of Hahn’s collection (_Alban. und Griech. Märch._ II. 189), where the German translation has the strange word ‘Wolfsmann.’

[627] _Pyth._ III. 1-4.

[628] _Ibid._ IV. 115.

[629] _Ibid._ IV. 119.

[630] _Ibid._ III. 45.

[631] _Pyth._ II. 29.

[632] _Pyth._ II. 42-48.

[633] Hesiod, _Shield of Heracl._ 178-188.

[634] Hom. _Il._ I. 262-8.

[635] Hom. _Il._ II. 743.

[636] _Il._ XI. 832.

[637] _Ibid._

[638] _Il._ IV. 219.

[639] Hom. _Od._ XXI. 303.

[640] _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, p. 382.

[641] _Early Age of Greece_, I. pp. 173 ff.

[642] _Pyth._ IV. 80.

[643] _Pyth._ III. 45.

[644] _Early Age of Greece_, I. pp. 175-6.

[645] Ridgeway, _Early Age of Greece_, I. p. 178.

[646] _De bello Gothico_, IV. 20 (Niebuhr, 1833, p. 565).

[647] _Early Age of Greece_, I. pp. 177-8.

[648] _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, p. 382.

[649] Ridgeway, _Early Age of Greece_, I. p. 174. The vase in question is figured by Colvin in _Journ. of Hellenic Studies_, Vol. I. p. 131, Pl. 2, and by Miss Harrison, _Prolegomena_ etc. p. 384.

[650] Pind. _Pyth._ III. 45 ff. (transl. Myers).

[651] Pind. _Pyth._ IX. 31 ff.

[652] _Primitive Culture_, Vol. I. p. 308. For a mass of instances, see pp. 308-315.

[653] _Op. cit._ I. p. 312.

[654] Verg. _Ecl._ VIII. 95.

[655] Hesiod, _Shield of Heracles_, 178 ff. Cf. also the names Ἄγριος and Ἔλατος (suggesting ἐλάτη, the fir-tree from which their weapons were made) in Apollodor. II. 5. 4. The name Ἄσβολος in Hesiod, meaning ‘soot,’ I cannot interpret; for it is hard to suppose that the ancient Centaurs, like the Callicantzari, came down the chimney. But the word is possibly corrupt; for Ovid (_Met._ XII. 307) refers to an augur Astylus among the Centaurs.

[656] Cf. Miss J. Harrison, _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, pp. 383-4.

[657] Paus. VIII. 42. 1-4. Cf. VIII. 25. 5.

[658] Apollodorus, II. 5. 4.

[659] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, I. p. 339.

[660] Stories of their coming to cook frogs etc. at the hearths of men occur, but only confirm the general belief that they have no fires of their own at which to cook, and are in general afraid of fire.

[661] Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. pp. 1297 and 1337.

[662] The shift of accent is due to the synizesis of the syllables -ει-α, pronounced now as -yá.

[663] Du Cange, s.v. στοιχεῖον.

[664] _Coloss._ ii. 3 and 20; _Galat._ iv. 3 and 9.

[665] _Galat._ iv. 9.

[666] Passow, _Popul. Carm._ no. 524. According to Σκαρλάτος (Λεξικόν, s.v.) στοιχειόν is sometimes a term of abuse; on that statement I base my interpretation of the folk-song.

[667] Du Cange, s.v.

[668] Du Cange, s.v.

[669] Georg. Cedrenus (circ. 1050) _Historiarum Compendium_, p. 197 (edit. Paris).

[670] Cedrenus, _ibid._

[671] στοιχεῖον pro eo quod τέλεσμα (whence by Arabic corruption our ‘talisman’) vocant Graeci, usurpant alii. Du Cange, _ibid._

[672] Codinus (15th century), _de Originibus Constantinop._ p. 30 (edit. Paris) § 63.

[673] Codinus, _ibid._ p. 20. § 39.

[674] _De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. XXI.

[675] The active of the verb also survives in a special sense, for which see below, p. 267. The modern form is στοιχειόνω: cf. δηλόνω for δηλόω, etc.

[676] See above, p. 69.

[677] Verg. _Aen._ V. 84 ff.

[678] _Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite_, 272. Cf. above, p. 156.

[679] _De quor. Graec. opinat._ cap. XXI.

[680] B. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 185.

[681] i.e. οἰκοκύριος, with initial ν attached (first in the accusative) from the article (τὸν) preceding. This is the ordinary word for ‘the master of a house.’

[682] i.e. δαίμων τοῦ τόπου. The word is used in Cythnos and Cyprus. Cf. Βάλληνδας, Κυθνιακά, p. 124. Σακελλάριος, Κυπριακά, III. p. 286.

[683] For detailed stories in point, see Leo Allatius, _l. c._, B. Schmidt, _op. cit._ pp. 186, 187.

[684] _Char._ 16.

[685] Suidas, s.vv. οἰωνιστική and Ξενοκράτης.

[686] s.v. ὄφιν οἰκουρόν.

[687] VIII. 41.

[688] Cf. Passow, _Popul. Carm._, Index, s.v. στοιχεῖον.

[689] Πολίτης, Μελέτη, p. 134.

[690] Πολίτης, _l. c._

[691] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. p. 155.

[692] Καμπούρογλου, _op. cit._ I. 226.

[693] e.g. Passow, _Popul. Carm._ nos. 511, 512.

[694] Ἀντωνιάδης, Κρητηΐς, p. 247 (from Πολίτης, _op. cit._ p. 141).

[695] Πολίτης, _ibid._

[696] Ἰατρίδης, Συλλογὴ δημοτ. ἀσμάτων, pp. 28-30 (Πολίτης, _ibid._).

[697] W. H. D. Rouse in _Folklore_, June, 1899 (Vol. x. no. 2), pp. 182 ff.

[698] Passow, no. 511, and Ζαμπέλιος, Ἄσματα δημοτικὰ τῆς Ἑλλάδος, p. 757.

[699] So Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 196. Ἰατρίδης, Συλλογὴ δημοτ. ἀσμάτων, p. 93, mentions also a dog.

[700] So also in Zacynthos and Cephalonia. Bern. Schmidt, _op. cit._ p. 196.

[701] e.g. in Cimolus, Bent, _The Cyclades_, p. 45.

[702] Cf. Ricaut, _Hist. de l’église grecque_, pp. 369-70.

[703] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. p. 148.

[704] _The Cyclades_, p. 132.

[705] Πολίτης, Μελέτη, p. 138.

[706] Ricaut, _Hist. de l’église grecque_, p. 367 (from Πολίτης, _ibid._).

[707] Ἰατρίδης, Συλλογὴ δημοτ. ἀσμάτων, p. 28.

[708] _Das Volksleben_, p. 196, note 2.

[709] Since this was written, a new work of Prof. Polites ( Μελέται περὶ τοῦ βίου καὶ τῆς γλώσσης τοῦ Ἑλληνικοῦ λαοῦ, Παραδόσεις) has come into my hands, and I find that he has modified his views. Cf. below, pp. 272-3, where I insert a suggestion made by Polites, _op. cit._ II. p. 1089.

[710] Suidas, Λεξικόν, s.v. Μάμας. The statement is corroborated by Codinus, περὶ θεαμάτων, p. 30, who adds to the human victims ‘multitudes of sheep and oxen and fowls.’ From Πολίτης, Μελέτη, p. 141, note 1.

[711] Hom. _Il._ VII. 442 ff.

[712] Hom. _Il._ XII. 3-33.

[713] See below, p. 273.

[714] _Agam._ 214.

[715] _Agam._ 1418.

[716] IV. 9. 1-5.

[717] VI. 20. 2-5.

[718] Porphyrius, _De abstinentia_, II. 56. Plutarch, _Themistocles_, 13.

[719] This view of the story I take from Πολίτης, Παραδόσεις, II. p. 1089.

[720] V. 4. 4.

[721] _Pausanias’ Description of Greece_, III. p. 468.

[722] Pausanias, I. 26. 1.

[723] Schol. ad Aristoph. _Nubes_, 508.

[724] Miss Jane Harrison, _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, p. 327 ff.

[725] See Roscher, _Lexicon d. Mythol._ I. 2468 ff.

[726] Lucian, _Alexander vel Pseudomantis_, cap. XIV.

[727] See Miss Jane Harrison, _Prolegomena to the Study of Greek Religion_, pp. 17-20, where the two reliefs in question are reproduced.

[728] For ballads dealing with this theme, see Πολίτης, Μελέτη, p. 133, and Ᾱραβάντινος, Συλλογὴ δημωδῶν ἀσμάτων τῆς Ἠπείρου, no. 451.

[729] Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 197.

[730] _Ibid._ p. 198.

[731] He used a neuter form, τὰ ἀράπια, which I have not found elsewhere.

[732] A similar method of laying _vrykólakes_ is reported from Samos by Πολίτης (Παραδόσεις, I. 580). In this case a wizard ‘took three calves born at one birth and drove them three times round the churchyard, saying some magic words.’

[733] ὁ βῳδοκέφαλας. The story as I give it is not a verbatim report of what I heard; as usual, I had to rely on my memory at the time and make notes afterwards.

[734] This is the form which I heard used constantly in the island instead of the more common ποτάμι (τὸ).

[735] This however must have been prior to the middle of the 17th century; for a history of the island published in 1657 says, ‘cette Isle ... n’est arrousée d’aucun ruisseau ou fontaine.’ Père François Richard, _Relation de ce qui s’est passé à Santorini_, p. 35.

[736] Soph. _Trach._ 10 ff.

[737] Formed from the ancient δράκων as Χάρος and Χάροντας from Χάρων. Cf. above, p. 98. There is a feminine δρακόντισσα or δράκισσα.

[738] Cf. Philostr. _Vit. Apollon._ III. 8. Aelian, _de natur. anim._ XVI. 39. Bern. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 191.

[739] Only one variety of dragon, the χαμοδράκι or ‘ground-dragon,’ is often harmless. It is of pastoral tastes and consorts with the ewes and she-goats, and is more noted among the shepherds for its lasciviousness than for any other quality.

[740] Artem. _Oneirocr._ II. 13 (p. 101). Cf. Festus, 67, 13.

[741] Lucian, _Philopseudes_, cap. XXXII. Zenobius, _Cent._ II. 1. The same punishment is in one story inflicted by a Callicantzaros on a midwife who had deceived him into believing that his newborn child was male. After sending her away with a sackful of gold, he discovered her deceit, and on her arrival at home the gold had turned to ashes. See above, p. 199.

[742] Ἀδαμάντιος Ἰ. Ἀδαμαντίου, Τηνιακά (published first in Δελτίον τῆς Ἱστορ. καὶ Ἐθνολ. Ἑταιρίας τῆς Ἑλλάδος, Vol. V. pp. 277 sqq.).

[743] For the first half of this story, see above, p. 183.

[744] ἀθάνατο νερό, _op. cit._ pp. 299 and 315.

[745] e.g. ἀθάνατα μῆλα, ‘immortal apples,’ _op. cit._ pp. 311 and 316. ἀθάνατο καρποῦζι, ‘immortal water-melon,’ pp. 297 and 315. ἀθάνατο γαροῦφαλο, ‘immortal gilly-flower,’ p. 317. The translation of this last is correctly that which I have given, but the peasants all over Greece will call almost any bright and scented flower by this same name.

[746] See above, p. 137.

[747] Cf. above, pp. 143-4.

[748] _Glossar. med. et infim. Graecitatis_ (p. 1541), s.v. τελώνιον.

[749] _Ibid._, Damasc. Hierodiac. _Serm._ 3.

[750] _Ibid._, Maximus Cythaer. Episc.

[751] _Ibid._, Georg. Hamartolus.

[752] τελώνας καὶ διαλόγους (for which I read δικολόγους with Bern. Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 172).

[753] _Ibid._, _Euchologium_.

[754] Luke xii. 20.

[755] Du Cange, _ibid._ τελωνάρχαι, λογοθέται, πρακτοψηφισταί, etc.

[756] See above, p. 110.

[757] Κωνστ. Κανελλάκης, Χιακὰ Ἀνάλεκτα, pp. 362-3.

[758] Ἰ. Σ. Ἀρχέλαος, ἡ Σινασός, p. 81.

[759] See above, p. 109.

[760] Testimony to the same belief is cited by Du Cange (s.v. τελώνιον) from an anonymous astronomical work.

[761] For references see Preller, _Griech. Mythol._ II. 105-6.

[762] Villoison, _Annales des voyages_, II. p. 180, cited by B. Schmidt, _das Volksleben_, p. 174, note 4.

[763] Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθην. III. p. 166.

[764] _Voyage de la Grèce_, VI. p. 154.

[765] _Das Volksleben_, p. 173.

[766] _Griech. Märch._ Vol. II. no. 64.

[767] Cf. Καμπούρογλου, Ἱστ. τῶν Ἀθηναίων, III. p. 77.

[768] Cf. above, p. 53.

[769] For this term see above, p. 204.

[770] B. Schmidt, _Das Volksleben_, p. 180.

[771] _Ibid._ note 6.

[772] _Op. cit_. p. 181.

[773] _Op. cit._ p. 181.

[774] _Op. cit._ p. 182.

[775] I cannot vouch for the accuracy of this translation. The word might possibly mean ‘he has had his shadow trampled on,’ and has been hurt indirectly through an injury inflicted upon his shadow-_genius_.

[776] Hom. _Il._ XXIII. 79.

[777] _Il._ XVIII. 535-8.

[778] Plato, _Phaedo_, p. 107 D.

[779] _Rep._ p. 617 D, E. Cf. 620 D, E.

[780] Meineke, _Fragm. Com. Graec._ IV. p. 238.

[781] Theocr. IV. 40.

[782] I do not of course wish to imply that in the every-day usage of these words the thought of a guardian-_genius_ was present to men’s minds; but the first formation of them can only have sprung from this belief.

[783] _Aen._ VI. 743.

[784] Plato, _Theag._ 128 D.

[785] _Ibid._ E.

[786] Both Plato (_Apol._ 40 A) and Xenophon (_Mem._ I. 1. 2-4), compare Socrates’ converse with his _genius_ with μαντική or ‘inspiration.’

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