THE GREAT GLADSTONE MYTH.*
In the post-Christian myths of the Teutonic race settled in England, no
figure appears more frequently and more mysteriously than that of
Gladstone or Mista Gladstone. To unravel the true germinal conception of
Gladstone, and to assign to all the later accretions of myth their
provenance and epoch, are the problems attempted in this chapter. It is
almost needless (when we consider the perversity of men and the lasting
nature of prejudice) to remark that some still see in Gladstone a shadowy
historical figure. Just as our glorious mythical Bismarck has been
falsely interpreted as the shadowy traditional Arminius (the Arminius of
Tacitus, not of Leo Adolescens), projected on the mists of the Brocken,
so Gladstone has been recognized as a human hero of the Fourth Dynasty.
In this capacity he has been identified with Gordon (probably the north
wind), with Spurgeon,
* whom I have elsewhere shown to be a river
god, and with Livingstone. In the last case the identity of the suffix
“stone,” and the resemblance of the ideas of “joy” and of “vitality,”
lend some air of speciousness to a fundamental error. Livingstone is
ohne zweifel, a mythical form of the midnight sun, now fabled to wander
in the “Dark Continent,” as Bishop of Natal, the land of the sun's
birthplace, now alluded to as lost in the cloud-land of comparative
mythology. Of all these cobwebs spun by the spiders of sciolism, the
Euhemeristic or Spencerian view—that Gladstone is an historical
personage—has attracted most attention. Unluckily for its advocates,
the whole contemporary documents of the Victorian Dynasty have perished.
When an over-educated and over-rated populace, headed
by two mythical
figures, Wat Tyler and one Jo,
* rose in fury against the School
Boards and the Department, they left nothing but tattered fragments of
the literature of the time. Consequently we are forced to reconstruct
the Gladstonian myth by the comparative method—that is, by comparing the
relics of old Ritual treatises, hymns, imprecations, and similar
religious texts, with works of art, altars, and statues, and with popular
traditions and folklore. The results, again, are examined in the light
of the Vedas, the Egyptian monuments, and generally of everything that,
to the unscientific eye, seems most turbidly obscure in itself, and most
hopelessly remote from the subject in hand. The aid of Philology will
not be rejected because Longus, or Longinus, has
* meanly argued
that her services must be accepted with cautious diffidence. On the
contrary, Philology is the only real key to the labyrinths of
post-Christian myth.
The philological analysis of the name of
Gladstone is attempted, with
very various results, by Roth, Kuhn, Schwartz, and other contemporary
descendants of the old scholars. Roth finds in “Glad” the Scotch word
“gled,” a hawk or falcon. He then adduces the examples of the
Hawk-Indra, from the Rig Veda, and of the Hawk-headed Osiris, both of
them indubitably personifications of the sun. On the other hand, Kuhn,
with Schwartz, fixes his attention on the suffix “stone,” and quotes,
from a fragment attributed to Shakespeare, “the all-dreaded
thunder-stone.” Schwartz and Kuhn conclude, in harmony with their
general system, that Gladstone is really and primarily the thunderbolt,
and secondarily the spirit of the tempest. They quote an isolated line
from an early lay about the “Pilot who weathered the storm,” which they
apply to Gladstone in his human or political aspect, when the
storm-spirit had been anthropomorphised, and was regarded as an ancestral
politician. But such scanty folklore as we possess assures us that the
storm, on the other hand, weathered Gladstone; and that the poem quoted
refers to quite another person, also named William, and probably
identical with William Tell—
that is, with the sun, which of course
brings us back to Roth's view of the hawk, or solar Gladstone, though
this argument in his own favour has been neglected by the learned
mythologist. He might also, if he cared, adduce the solar stone of
Delphi, fabled to have been swallowed by Cronus. Kuhn, indeed, lends an
involuntary assent to this conclusion (Ueber Entwick.
der Myth.) when he
asserts that the stone swallowed by Cronus was the setting sun. Thus we
have only to combine our information to see how correct is the view of
Roth, and how much to be preferred to that of Schwartz and Kuhn.
Gladstone, philologically considered, is the “hawkstone,” combining with
the attributes of the Hawk-Indra and Hawk-Osiris those of the Delphian
sun-stone, which we also find in the Egyptian Ritual for the Dead.
*
The ludicrous theory that Gladstone is a territorial surname, derived
from some place (ldquo;Gledstane”
Falkenstein), can only be broached by men
ignorant of even the grammar of science; dabblers who mark with a pencil
the pages of travellers and missionaries. We conclude, then, that
Gladstone is, primarily, the hawk-sun, or sun-hawk.
From philology we turn to the examination of literary fragments, which
will necessarily establish our already secured position (that Gladstone
is the sun), or so much the worse for the fragments. These have reached
us in the shape of burned and torn scraps of paper, covered with printed
texts, which resolve themselves into hymns, and imprecations or curses.
It appears to have been the custom of the worshippers of Gladstone to
salute his rising, at each dawn, with printed outcries of adoration and
delight, resembling in character the Osirian hymns. These are sometimes
couched in rhythmical language, as when we read—
“[Gla] dstone, the pillar of the People's hopes,”—
to be compared with a very old text, referring obscurely to “the People's
William,” and “a popular Bill,” doubtless one and the same thing, as has
often been remarked. Among the epithets of Gladstone which occur in the
hymns, we find “versatile,” “accomplished,” “philanthropic,” “patriotic,”
“statesmanlike,”
“subtle,” “eloquent,” “illustrious,” “persuasive,”
“brilliant,” “clear,” “unambiguous,” “resolute.” All of those are obviously intelligible only when applied to the sun. At the same time we
note a fragmentary curse of the greatest importance, in which Gladstone
is declared to be the beloved object of “the Divine Figure from the
North,” or “the Great White Czar.” This puzzled the learned, till a
fragment of a mythological disquisition was recently unearthed. In this
text it was stated, on the authority of Brinton, that “the Great White
Hare” worshipped by the Red Indians was really, when correctly
understood, the Dawn. It is needless to observe (when one is addressing
students) that “Great White Hare” (in Algonkin,
Manibozho) becomes Great
White Czar in Victorian English. Thus the Divine Figure from the North,
or White Czar, with whom Gladstone is mythically associated, turns out to
be the Great White Hare, or Dawn Hero, of the Algonkins. The sun
(Gladstone) may naturally and reasonably be spoken of in mythical
language as the “Friend of the Dawn.” This proverbial expression came to
be misunderstood, and we hear of a Liberal statesman, Gladstone, and
of
his affection for a Russian despot. The case is analogous to Apollo's
fabled love for Daphne = Dahana, the Dawn. While fragments of laudatory
hymns are common enough, it must not be forgotten that dirges or curses
(
Diræ) are also discovered in the excavations. These
Diræ were put
forth both morning and evening, and it is interesting to note that the
imprecations vented at sunset (“evening papers,” in the old mythical
language) are even more severe and unsparing than those uttered (“morning
papers”) at dawn.
How are the imprecations to be explained? The explanation is not
difficult, nothing is difficult—to a comparative mythologist.
Gladstone is the sun, the enemy of Darkness. But Darkness has her
worshippers as well as Light. Set, no less than Osiris, was adored in
the hymns of Egypt, perhaps by kings of an invading Semitic tribe. Now
there can be no doubt that the enemies of Gladstone, the Rishis, or hymn-
writers who execrated him, were regarded by his worshippers as a darkened
class, foes of enlightenment. They are spoken of as “the stupid party,”
as “obscurantist,” and so forth, with the usual
amenity of theological
controversy. It would be painful, and is unnecessary, to quote from the
curses, whether matins or vespers, of the children of night. Their
language is terribly severe, and, doubtless, was regarded as blasphemy by
the sun-worshippers. Gladstone is said to have “no conscience,” “no
sense of honour,” to be so fugitive and evasive in character, that one
might almost think the moon, rather than the sun, was the topic under
discussion. But, as Roth points out, this is easily explained when we
remember the vicissitudes of English weather, and the infrequent
appearances of the sun in that climate. By the curses, uttered as they
were in the morning, when night has yielded to the star of day, and at
evening, when day is, in turn, vanquished by night, our theory of the sun
Gladstone is confirmed beyond reach of cavil; indeed, the solar theory is
no longer a theory, but a generally recognized fact.
Evidence, which is bound to be confirmatory, reaches us from an altar and
from works of art. The one altar of Gladstone is by some explained as
the pedestal of his statue, while the anthropological sciolists regard it
simply as a milestone! In speaking to archæ-
ologists it is hardly
necessary even to touch on this preposterous fallacy, sufficiently
confuted by the monument itself.
On the road into western England, between the old sites of Bristol and
London, excavations recently laid bare the very interesting monument
figured here.
Though some letters or hieroglyphs are defaced, there can be no doubt
that the inscription is correctly read G. O. M. The explanation which I
have proposed (Zeitschrift für Ang. Ant.) is universally accepted by
scholars. I read Gladstonio Optimo Maximo, “To Gladstone, Best and
Greatest,” a form of adoration, or adulation, which survived in England
(like municipal institutions, the game laws, and trial by jury) from the
date of the Roman occupation. It is a plausible conjecture that
Gladstone stepped into the
shoes of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. Hence we
may regard him (like Osiris) as the sum of the monotheistic conception in
England.
This interpretation is so manifest, that, could science sneer, we might
laugh at the hazardous conjectures of smatterers. They, as usual, are
greatly divided among themselves. The Spencerian or Euhemeristic
school,—if that can be called a school
“Where blind and naked Ignorance
Delivers brawling judgments all day long
On all things, unashamed,”—
protests that the monument is a pedestal of a lost image of Gladstone.
The inscription (G. O. M.) is read “Grand Old Man,” and it is actually
hinted that this was the
petit nom, or endearing title, of a real
historical politician. Weak as we may think such reasonings, we must
regard them as, at least, less unscholarly than the hypothesis that the
inscription should be read
“90 M.”
meaning “ninety miles from London.” It is true that the site whence the
monument was excavated is at a distance of ninety miles from the ruins of
London, but that is a mere coincidence, on which it were childish to
insist. Scholars know at what rate such accidents should be estimated,
and value at its proper price one clear interpretation like G. O. M.=
Gladstonio Optimo Maximo.
It is, of course, no argument against this view that the authors of the
Diræ regard Gladstone as a maleficent being. How could they do
otherwise? They were the scribes of the opposed religion. Diodorus
tells us about an Ethiopian sect which detested the Sun. A parallel, as
usual, is found in Egypt, where Set, or Typhon, is commonly regarded as a
maleficent spirit, the enemy of Osiris, the midnight sun. None the less
it is certain that under some dynasties Set himself was adored—the deity
of one creed is the Satan of its opponents. A curious coincidence seems
to show (as Bergaigne thinks) that Indra, the chief Indo-Aryan deity, was
occasionally confounded with Vrittra, who is usually his antagonist. The
myths of Egypt, as reported by Plutarch, say that Set, or Typhon, forced
his way out of his mother's side, thereby showing his natural malevolence
even in the moment of his birth. The myths of the extinct Algonkins of
the American continent repeat absolutely the same tale about
Malsumis,
the brother and foe of their divine hero, Glooskap. Now the Rig Veda
(iv. 18, 1-3) attributes this act to Indra, and we may infer that Indra
had been the Typhon, or Set, or Glooskap, of some Aryan kindred, before
he became the chief and beneficent god of the Kusika stock of
Indo-Aryans. The evil myth clung to the good god. By a similar process
we may readily account for the imprecations, and for the many profane and
blasphemous legends, in which Gladstone is represented as oblique,
mysterious, and equivocal. (Compare Apollo Loxias.) The same class of
ideas occurs in the myths about Gladstone “in Opposition” (as the old
mythical language runs), that is, about the too ardent sun of summer.
When “in Opposition” he is said to have found himself in a condition “of
more freedom and less responsibility,” and to “have made it hot for his
enemies,” expressions transparently mythical. If more evidence were
wanted, it would be found in the myth which represents Gladstone as the
opponent of Huxley. As every philologist knows, Huxley, by Grimm's law,
is Huskley, the hero of a “husk myth” (as Ralston styles it), a brilliant
being enveloped in a husk, probably the night
or the thunder-cloud. The
dispute between Gladstone and Huskley as to what occurred at the Creation
is a repetition of the same dispute between Wainamoinen and Joukahainen,
in the Kalewala of the Finns. Released from his husk, the opponent
becomes Beaconsfield = the field of light, or radiant sky.
In works of art, Gladstone is represented as armed with an axe. This, of
course, is probably a survival from the effigies of Zeus Labrandeus, den
Man auf Münzen mit der streitaxt erblickt (Preller, i. 112). We hear of
axes being offered to Gladstone by his worshippers. Nor was the old
custom of clothing the image of the god (as in the sixth book of the
“Iliad”) neglected. We read that the people of a Scotch manufacturing
town, Galashiels, presented the Midlothian Gladstone (a local hero), with
“trouserings,” which the hero graciously accepted. Indeed he was
remarkably unlike Death, as described by Æschylus, “Of all gods, Death
only recks not of gifts.” Gladstone, on the other hand, was the centre
of a lavish system of sacrifice—loaves of bread, axes, velocipedes,
books, in vast and overwhelming numbers, were all dedicated at his
shrine. Hence some have identi-
fied him with Irving, also a deity
propitiated (as we read in Josephus Hatton) by votive offerings. In a
later chapter I show that Irving is really one of the Asvins of Vedic
mythology, “the Great Twin Brethren,” or, in mythic language, “the
Corsican Brothers” (compare Myriantheus on the Asvins). His inseparable
companion is Wilson-Barrett.
Among animals the cow is sacred to Gladstone; and, in works of art, gems
and vases (or “jam-pots”), he is represented with the cow at his feet,
like the mouse of Horus, of Apollo Smintheus, and of the Japanese God of
Plenty (see an ivory in the Henley Collection). How are we to explain
the companionship of the cow? At other times the Sun-hero sits between
the horns of the Cow-Goddess Dilemma, worshipped at Westminster. (Compare
Brugsch, “Religion und Mythologie der alten Aegypter,” p. 168, “Die
Darstellungen Zeigen uns den Sonnengott zwischen den Hornern der Kuh
sitzend.”) The idea of Le Page Renouf, and of Pierret and De Rouge, is
that the cow is a symbol of some Gladstonian attribute, perhaps
“squeezability,” a quality attributed to the hero by certain Irish
minstrels. I regard it as more
probable that the cow is (as in the Veda)
the rain-cloud, released from prison by Gladstone, as by Indra. At the
same time the cow, in the Veda, stands for Heaven, Earth, Dawn, Night,
Cloud, Rivers, Thunder, Sacrifice, Prayer, and Soma. We thus have a wide
field to choose from, nor is our selection of very much importance, as
any, or all, of these interpretations will be welcomed by Sanskrit
scholars. The followers of McLennan have long ago been purged out of the
land by the edict of Oxford against this sect of mythological heretics.
They would doubtless have maintained that the cow was Gladstone's
totem, or family crest, and that, like other totemists, he was forbidden
to eat beef.
It is curious that on some old and worn coins we detect a
half-obliterated male figure lurking behind the cow. The inscription may
be read “Jo,” or “Io,” and appears to indicate Io, the cow-maiden of
Greek myth (see the “Prometheus” of Æschylus).
Another proof of the mythical character of Gladstone is the number of his
birthplaces. Many cities claimed the honour of being his cradle, exactly
as in the cases of Apollo and Irving. Their claims were allowed by
the
Deity. (Compare Callimachus,
Hymn to Apollo.)
In addressing scholars it is needless to refute the Euhemeristic
hypothesis, worthy of the Abbe Banier, that the cow is a real cow,
offered by a real historical Gladstone, or by his companion, Jo, to the
ignorant populace of the rural districts. We have already shown that Jo
is a mythological name. The tendency to identify Gladstone with the cow
(as the dawn with the sun) is a natural and edifying tendency, but the
position must not be accepted without further inquiry. The Sun-god, in
Egyptian myth, is a Bull, but there is a difference, which we must not
overlook, between a bull and a cow. Caution, prudence, a tranquil
balancing of all available evidence, and an absence of preconceived
opinions,—these are the guiding stars of comparative mythology.
[*]
A chapter from Prof. Boscher's “Post-Christian Mythology.” Berlin
and New York, A.D. 3886.
[*]
Both these names are undoubtedly Greek neuter substantives.
[*]
Lieblein speaks (“Egyptian Religion,” 1884, Leipzig,) of “the
mythical name Jo.” Already had Continental savants dismissed the belief
in a historical Jo, a leader of the Demos.
[*]
There seems to be some mistake here.
[*]
“Le pierre sorti du soleil se retrouve au Livre des Souffles.”
Lefebure, “Osiris,” p. 204. Brugsch, “Shai-n. sinsin,” i. 9.