he
fable, expanding it into some little drama, or some mystic anagram of
mortal life. While in the beginning the sacred poet had transcribed
nothing but joyous perceptions and familiar industrial or martial
actions, he now introduces intrigue, ingenious adventures, and heroic
passions.

[Sidenote: They may become moral ideals.]

When we turn from the theology of the Vedas to that of Homer we see this
revolution already accomplished. The new significance of mythology has
obscured the old, and was a symbol for material facts has become a
drama, an apologue, and an ideal. Thus one function of mythology has
been nothing less than to carry religion over from superstition into
wisdom, from an excuse and apology for magic into an ideal
representation of moral goods. In his impotence and sore need a man
appeals to magic; this appeal he justifies by imagining a purpose and a
god behind the natural agency. But after his accounts with the phenomena
are settled by his own labour and patience, he continues to be
fascinated by the invisible spirit he has evoked. He cherishes this
image; it becomes his companion, his plastic and unaccountable witness
and refuge in all the exigencies of life. Dwelling in the mind
continually, the deity becomes acclimated there; the worship it receives
endows it with whatever powers and ideal faculties are most feared or
honoured by its votary. Now the thunder and the pestilence which were
once its essence come to be regarded as its disguises and its foils.
Faith comes to consist in disregarding what it was once religion to
regard, namely, the ways of fortune and the conditions of earthly
happiness. Thus the imagination sets up its ideals over against the
world that occasioned them, and mythology, instead of cheating men with
false and magic aids to action, moralises them by presenting an ideal
standard for action and a perfect object for contemplation.

[Sidenote: The sun-god moralised.]

If we consider again, for instance, Apollo's various attributes and the
endless myths connected with his name, we shall find him changing his
essence and forgetting to be the material sun in order to become the
light of a cultivated spirit. At first he is the sky's child, and has
the moon for twin sister. His mother is an impersonation of darkness and
mystery. He travels yearly from the hyperborean regions toward the
south, and daily he traverses the firmament in a chariot. He sleeps in a
sea-nymph's bosom or ris