* White dogs and black cannot swim the river, because the white would say: “I have washed myself!” and the black: “I have soiled myself!” Only the bright reddish ones can pass to the shore of the dead.
Endnotes
[1] Bhagavad Gītā, 10:20.
[2] Bṛhadāranyaka Upaniṣad, 4. 3. 36–37.
[3] James Henry Breasted,
Compare the poem of Taliesin.
[4] Franz Boas,
[5] Sahagún,
[6] Based on the translation by E.A.W. Budge:
[7] Reprinted by permission of the Harvard University Press from Henry Clarke Warren, Buddhism in Translations, pp. 38–39.
[8] Sylvanus G. Morley,
[9]
[10] The following account is based on the Poetic Edda, “Voluspa,” pp. 42 ff. (the verses are quoted from the translation by Bellows,
[11] Gospel According to Matthew, 24:3–36.
There is no final system for the interpretation of myths, and there will never be any such thing. Mythology is like the god Proteus, “the ancient one of the sea, whose speech is sooth.” The god “will make assay, and take all manner of shapes of things that creep upon the earth, of water likewise, and of fierce fire burning.”[1]
The life-voyager wishing to be taught by Proteus must “grasp him steadfastly and press him yet the more,” and at length he will appear in his proper shape. But this wily god never discloses even to the skillful questioner the whole content of his wisdom. He will reply only to the question put to him, and what he discloses will be great or trivial, according to the question asked.
So often as the sun in his course stands high in mid heaven, then forth from the brine comes the ancient one of the sea, whose speech is sooth, before the breath of the West Wind he comes, and the sea’s dark ripple covers him. And when he is got forth, he lies down to sleep in the hollow of the caves. And around him the seals, the brood of the fair daughter of the brine, sleep all in a flock, stolen forth from the grey sea water, and bitter is the scent they breathe of the deeps of the salt sea.[2]
The Greek warrior-king Menelaus, who was guided by a helpful daughter of this old sea-father to the wild lair, and instructed by her how to wring from the god his response, desired only to ask the secret of his own personal difficulties and the whereabouts of his personal friends. And the god did not disdain to reply.
Mythology has been interpreted by the modern intellect as a primitive, fumbling effort to explain the world of nature (Frazer); as a production of poetical fantasy from prehistoric times, misunderstood by succeeding ages (Müller); as a repository of allegorical instruction, to shape the individual to his group (Durkheim); as a group dream, symptomatic of archetypal urges within the depths of the human psyche (Jung); as the traditional vehicle of man’s profoundest metaphysical insights (Coomaraswamy); and as God’s Revelation to His children (the Church). Mythology is all of these. The various judgments are determined by the viewpoints of the judges. For when scrutinized in terms not of what it is but of how it functions, of how it has served mankind in the past, of how it may serve today, mythology shows itself to be as amenable as life itself to the obsessions and requirements of the individual, the race, the age. 2. The Function of Myth, Cult, and Meditation