name, and the inference, supported by such words as rufus, that crying
colours are red, and therefore appropriate names of the red sun. The
connection between Pururavas and Agni, fire, is what appeals to Kuhn--and,
in short, where Mr. Muller sees a myth of sun and dawn, Kuhn recognises a
fire-myth. Roth, again (whose own name means _red_), far from thinking
that Urvasi is 'the chaste dawn,' interprets her name as die geile, that
is, 'lecherous, lascivious, lewd, wanton, obscene'; while Pururavas, as
'the Roarer,' suggests 'the Bull in rut.' In accordance with these views
Roth explains the myth in a fashion of his own. {70a}

Here, then, as Kuhn says, 'we have three essentially different modes of
interpreting the myth,' {70b} all three founded on philological analysis
of the names in the story. No better example could be given to
illustrate the weakness of the philological method. In the first place,
that method relies on names as the primitive relics and germs of the
tale, although the tale may occur where the names have never been heard,
and though the names are, presumably, late additions to a story in which
the characters were originally anonymous. Again, the most illustrious
etymologists differ absolutely about the true sense of the names. Kuhn
sees fire everywhere, and fire-myths; Mr. Muller sees dawn and
dawn-myths; Schwartz sees storm and storm-myths, and so on. As the
orthodox teachers are thus at variance, so that there is no safety in
orthodoxy, we may attempt to use our heterodox method.

None of the three scholars whose views we have glanced at--neither Roth,
Kuhn, nor Mr. Muller--lays stress on the saying of Urvasi, 'never let me
see you without your royal garments, _for this is the custom of women_.'
{71} To our mind, these words contain the gist of the myth. There must
have been, at some time, a custom which forbade women to see their
husbands without their garments, or the words have no meaning. If any