n (as I shall prove at large) when he was writing
his most famous works. But he 'returned at last to his old colours' (1.
xvii.) in Die lettischen Sonnenmythen (1875). In 1880 Mannhardt died.
Mr. Max Muller does not say whether Mannhardt, before a decease deeply
regretted, recanted his heretical views about the philological method,
and his expressed admiration of the study of the lower races as 'an
invaluable instrument.' One would gladly read a recantation so
important. But Mr. Max Muller does tell us that 'if I did not refer to
his work in my previous contributions to the science of mythology the
reason was simple enough. It was not, as has been suggested, my wish to
suppress it (todtschweigen), but simply my want of knowledge of the
materials with which he dealt' (German popular customs and traditions)
'and therefore the consciousness of my incompetence to sit in judgment on
his labours.' Again, we are told that there was no need of criticism or
praise of Mannhardt. He had Mr. Frazer as his prophet--but not till ten
years after his death.

Mannhardt's Letters

'Mannhardt's state of mind with regard to the general principles of
comparative philology has been so exactly my own,' says Mr. Max Muller,
that he cites Mannhardt's letters to prove the fact. But as to the
_application_ to myth of the principles of comparative philology,
Mannhardt speaks of 'the lack of the historical sense' displayed in the
practical employment of the method. This, at least, is 'not exactly' Mr.
Max Muller's own view. Probably he refers to the later period when
Mannhardt 'returned to his old colours.'

The letters of Mannhardt, cited in proof of his exact agreement with Mr.
Max Muller about comparative philology, do not, as far as quoted, mention
the subject of comparative philology at all (1. xviii-xx.). Possibly
'philology' is here a slip of the pen, and 'mythology' may be meant.

Mannhardt says to Mullenhoff (May 2, 1876) that he has been uneasy 'at
the extent which sun myths threaten to assume in my comparisons.' He is
opening 'a new point of view;' materials rush in, 'so that the sad danger
seemed inevitable of everything becoming everything.' In Mr. Max
Muller's own words, written long ago, _he_ expressed his dread, not of
'everything becoming everything' (a truly Heraclitean state of affairs),
but of the 'omnipresent Sun and the inevitable Dawn appearing in ever so
many disguises.' 'Have we not,' he asks, 'arrive