f the few erudite works which are at
once truly great and thoroughly entertaining. The learning displayed
in it would do credit to a German specialist, both for extent and for
minuteness, while the orderly arrangement of the arguments and the
elegant lucidity of the style are such as we are accustomed to expect
from French essay-writers. And what is still more admirable is the
way in which the enthusiasm characteristic of a genial and original
speculator is tempered by the patience and caution of a cool-headed
critic. Patience and caution are nowhere more needed than in writers
who deal with mythology and with primitive religious ideas; but these
qualities are too seldom found in combination with the speculative
boldness which is required when fresh theories are to be framed or new
paths of investigation opened. The state of mind in which the explaining
powers of a favourite theory are fondly contemplated is, to some extent,
antagonistic to the state of mind in which facts are seen, with the
eye of impartial criticism, in all their obstinate and uncompromising
reality. To be able to preserve the balance between the two opposing
tendencies is to give evidence of the most consummate scientific
training. It is from the want of such a balance that the recent great
work of Mr. Cox is at times so unsatisfactory. It may, I fear, seem
ill-natured to say so, but the eagerness with which Mr. Cox waylays
every available illustration of the physical theory of the origin of
myths has now and then the curious effect of weakening the reader's
conviction of the soundness of the theory. For my own part, though by no
means inclined to waver in adherence to a doctrine once adopted on good
grounds, I never felt so much like rebelling against the mythologic
supremacy of the Sun and the Dawn as when reading Mr. Cox's volumes.
That Mr. Tylor, while defending the same fundamental theory, awakens no
such rebellious feelings, is due to his clear perception and realization
of the fact that it is impossible to generalize in a single formula
such many-sided correspondences as those which primitive poetry end
philosophy have discerned between the life of man and the life of
outward nature. Whoso goes roaming up and down the elf-land of popular
fancies, with sole intent to resolve each episode of myth into some
answering physical event, his only criterion being outward resemblance,
cannot be trusted in his conclusions, since wherever he turns for
evid