subject in the kosmic system to the Yin [feminine] principle, such as
darkness, the earth, female creatures, water, etc. Thus Pao P'ah Tsze
declares with reference to the tides: 'The vital essence of the moon
governs water: and hence, when the moon is at its brightest, the
tides are high.'" [252] According to the Japanese fairy tale the moon
was to "rule over the new-born earth and the blue waste of the sea,
with its multitudinous salt waters." [253] Thus we see that
throughout Asia, "as lord of moisture and humidity, the moon is
connected with growth and the nurturing power of the peaceful
night." [254]
Of the kindred of the Pharaohs, Plutarch observes: "The sun and
moon were described by the Egyptians as sailing round the world in
boats, intimating that these bodies owe their power of moving, as
well as their support and nourishment, to the principle of humidity"
(Plut. de Isid. s. 34): which statement Sir J. Gardner Wilkinson says
is confirmed by the sculptures. The moon-god Khons bears in his
hands either a palm-branch or "the Nilometer." When the Egyptians
sacrificed a pig to the moon, "the first sacred emblem they carried
was a _hydria_, or water-pitcher." At another festival the Egyptians
"marched in procession towards the sea-side, whither likewise the
priests and other proper officers carried the sacred chest, inclosing a
small boat or vessel of gold, into which they first poured some fresh
water; and then all present cried out with a loud voice 'Osiris is
found.' This ceremony being ended, they threw a little fresh mould,
together with rich odours and spices, into the water, mixing the
whole mass together, and working it up into a little image in the
shape of a crescent. The image was afterwards dressed and adorned
with a proper habit, and the whole was intended to intimate that they
looked upon these gods as the essence and power of earth and
water." [255]
The Austro-Hungarians have a man in the moon who is a sort of
aquarius. Grimm says: "Water, an essential part of the Norse myth,
is wanting in the story of the man with the thorn bush, but it
reappears in the Carniolan story cited in Bretano's Libussa (p. 421):
the man in the moon is called Kotar, he makes her grow by pouring
water." [256] The Scandinavian legend, distilled into Jack and Jill,
is, as we have seen, an embodiment of early European belief that the
ebb and flow of the tides were dependent upon the motions and
mutations of the moon.
We find the same notion prevailing in the western hemisphere. "As
the MOON is associated with the dampness and dews of night, an
ancient and widespread myth identified her with the goddess of
water. Moreover, in spite of the expostulations of the learned, the
common people the world over persist in attributing to her a marked
influence on the rains. Whether false or true, this familiar opinion is
of great antiquity, and was decidedly approved by the Indians, who
were all, in the words of an old author, 'great observers of the
weather by the moon.' They looked upon her, not only as
forewarning them by her appearance of the approach of rains and
fogs, but as being their actual cause. Isis, her Egyptian title, literally
means moisture; Ataensic, whom the Hurons said was the moon, is
derived from the word for water; and Citatli and Atl, moon and
water, are constantly confounded in Aztec theology." [257] One of
the gods of the Dakotahs was "Unk-ta-he (god of the water). The
Dakotahs say that this god and its associates are seen in their
dreams. It is the master-spirit of all their juggling and superstitious
belief, From it the medicine men obtain their supernatural powers,
and a great part of their religion springs from this god." [258]
Brinton also says of this large Indian nation, "that Muktahe, spirit of
water, is the master of dreams and witchcraft, is the belief of the
Dakotahs." [259] We know that the Dakotahs worshipped the moon,
and therefore see no difficulty in identifying that divinity with their
god of dreams and water. "In the legend of the Muyscas it is Chia,
the moon, who was also goddess of water and flooded the earth out
of spite." [260] In this myth the moon is a malevolent deity, and
water, usually a symbol of life, becomes an agency of death.
Reactions are constantly occurring in the myth-making process. The
god is male or female, good or evil, angry or amiable, according to
the season or climate, the aspect of nature or the mood of the
people. "In hot countries," says Sir John Lubbock, "the sun is
generally regarded as an evil, and in cold as a beneficent being."
[261] We are willing to accept this, with allowance. There is little
question that taking men as a whole they are mainly optimistic in
their judgments respecting the gifts of earth and the glories of
heaven. Mr. Brinton, in reference to the imagined destructiveness of
the water deity, writes: "Another reaction in the mythological
laboratory is here disclosed. As the good qualities of water were
attributed to the goddess of night, sleep, and death, so her
malevolent traits were in turn reflected back on this element.
Taking, however, American religions as a whole, water is far more
frequently represented as producing beneficent effects than the
reverse." [262]
"The time of full moon was chosen both in Mexico and Peru to
celebrate the festival of the deities of water, the patrons of
agriculture, and very generally the ceremonies connected with the
crops were regulated by her phases. The Nicaraguans said that the
god of rains, Quiateot, rose in the east, thus hinting how this
connection originated." [263] "The Muyscas of the high plains of
Bogota were once, they said, savages without agriculture, religion,
or law; but there came to them from the east an old and bearded
man, Bochica, the child of the sun, and he taught them to till the
fields, to clothe themselves, to worship the gods, to become a
nation. But Bochica had a wicked, beautiful wife, Huythaca, who
loved to spite and spoil her husband's work; and she it was who
made the river swell till the land was covered by a flood, and but a
few of mankind escaped upon the mountain tops. Then Bochica was
wroth, and he drove the wicked Huythaca from the earth, and made
her the moon, for there had been no moon before; and he cleft the
rocks and made the mighty cataract of Tequendama, to let the
deluge flow away. Then, when the land was dry, he gave to the
remnant of mankind the year and its periodic sacrifices, and the
worship of the sun. Now the people who told this myth had not
forgotten, what indeed we might guess without their help, that
Bochica was himself Zuhe, the sun, and Huytheca, the sun's wife,
the moon." [264] This interesting and instructive legend, to which
we alluded before in a brief quotation from Mr. Brinton, is worthy
of reproduction in its fuller form, and fitly concludes our moon
mythology and worship, as it presents a synoptical view of the chief
points to which our attention has been turned. It shows us primitive
or primeval man, the dawn of civilization, the daybreak of religion,
the upgrowth of national life. In its solar husband and lunar wife it
embraces that anthropomorphism and sexuality which we think
have been and still are the principal factors in the production of
legendary and religious impersonations. It includes that dualism
which is one of man's oldest attempts to account for the opposition
of good and evil. And finally it predicts a new humanity, springing
from a remnant of the old; and a progress of brighter years, when,
the deluge having disappeared, the dry land shall be fruitful in every
good; when men shall worship the Father of lights, and "God shall
be all in all."
[*] For further information on the universality of moon-worship, see
_The Ceremonies and Religious Customs of the Various Nations of
the Known World_, by Bernard Picart. London: 1734, folio, vol. iii.
MOON SUPERSTITIONS.
I. INTRODUCTION.
Superstition may be defined as an extravagance of faith and fear:
not what Ecclesiastes calls being "righteous overmuch," but
religious reverence in excess. Some etymologists say that the word
originally meant a "_standing_ still _over_ or by a thing" in fear,
wonder, or dread. [265] Brewer's definition is rather more classical:
"That which survives when its companions are dead (Latin,
_supersto_). Those who escaped in battle were called _superstites_.
Superstition is that religion which remains when real religion is
dead; that fear and awe and worship paid to the religious impression
which survives in the mind when correct notions of Deity no longer
exist." [266] Hooker says that superstition "is always joined with a
wrong opinion touching things divine. Superstition is, when things
are either abhorred or observed with a zealous or fearful, but
erroneous relation to God. By means whereof the superstitious do
sometimes serve, though the true God, yet with needless offices, and
defraud Him of duties necessary; sometimes load others than Him
with such honours as properly are His." [267] A Bampton Lecturer
on this subject says: "Superstition is an _unreasonable belief_ of
that which is mistaken for truth concerning the nature of God and
the invisible world, our relations to these unseen objects, and the
duties which spring out of those relations." [268]
We may next briefly inquire into the origin of the thing, which, of
course, is older than the word. Burton will help us to an easy
answer. He tells us that "the _primum mobile_, and first mover of
all superstition, is the devil, that great enemy of mankind, the
principal agent, who in a thousand several shapes, after divers
fashions, with several engines, illusions, and by several names, hath
deceived the inhabitants of the earth, in several places and countries,
still rejoicing at their falls." [269] Verily this protean, omnipresent,
and malignant devil has proved himself a great convenience! He has
been the scapegoat upon whom we have laid the responsibility of all
our mortal woe: and now we learn that to his infernal influence we
are indebted for our ignorance and superstition. Henceforth, when
we are at our wit's end, we may apostrophize the difficulty, and
exclaim, "O thou invisible spirit, if thou hast no name to be known
by, let us call thee devil!" We hesitate to spoil this serviceable
illusion: for as we have known some good people, of a sort, who
would be distressed to find that there was no hell to burn up the
opponents of their orthodoxy; we fear lest many would be
disappointed if they found out that the infernal spirit was not at the
bottom of our abysmal ignorance. But we will give even the devil
his due. We are not like Sir William Brown, who "could never bring
himself heartily to hate the devil." We can, wherever we find him;
but we think it only honest to father our own mental deficiencies, as
well as our moral delinquencies, and instead of seeking a substitute
to use the available remedy. "To err is human"; and it is in humanity
itself that we shall discover the source of superstition. We are the
descendants of ancestors who were the children of the world, and
we were ourselves children not so long ago. Childhood is the age of
fancy and fiction; of sensitiveness to outer influences; of
impressions of things as they seem, not as they are. When we
become men we put away childish things; and in the manhood of
our race we shall banish many of the idols and ideas which please us
while we grow. Darwin has told us that our "judgment will not
rarely err from ignorance and weak powers of reasoning. Hence the
strangest customs and superstitions, in complete opposition to the
true welfare and happiness of mankind, have become all-powerful
throughout the world. How so many absurd rules of conduct, as well
as so many absurd religious beliefs, have originated, we do not
know; nor how it is that they have become, in all quarters of the
world, so deeply impressed on the mind of men; but it is worthy of
remark that a belief constantly inculcated during the early years of
life, whilst the brain is impressible, appears to acquire almost the
nature of an instinct; and the very essence of an instinct is that it is
followed independently of reason." [270]
But if superstition be the result of imperfection, there is no
gainsaying the fact that it is productive of infinite evil; and on this
account it has been attributed to a diabolical paternity. Bacon even
affirms that "it were better to have no opinion of God at all, than
such an opinion as is unworthy of Him; for the one is unbelief, the
other is contumely: and certainly superstition is the reproach of the
Deity." [271] Most heartily do we hold with Dr. Thomas Browne:
"It is not enough to believe in God as an irresistible power that
presides over the universe; for this a malignant demon might be. It
is necessary for our devout happiness that we should believe in Him
as that pure and gracious Being who is the encourager of our virtues
and the comforter of our sorrows.
Quantum religio potuit suadere malorum,
exclaims the Epicurean poet, in thinking of the evils which
superstition, characterized by that ambiguous name, had produced;
and where a fierce or gloomy superstition has usurped the influence
which religion graciously exercises only for purposes of
benevolence to man, whom she makes happy with a present
enjoyment, by the very expression of devout gratitude for happiness
already enjoyed, it would not be easy to estimate the amount of
positive misery which must result from the mere contemplation of a
tyrant in the heavens, and of a creation subject to his cruelty and
caprice." [272] The above quoted line from Lucretius--To such evils
could religion persuade!--is more than the exclamation of righteous
indignation against the sacrifice of Iphigenia by her father,
Agamemnon, at the bidding of a priest, to propitiate a goddess. It is
still further applicable to the long chain of outrageous wrongs which
have been inflicted upon the innocent at the instigation of a stupid
and savage fanaticism. What is worst of all, much of this
bloodthirsty religion has claimed a commission from the God of
love, and performed its detestable deeds in the insulted name of that
"soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit," whom the loftiest and
best of men delight to adore as the Prince of peace. No wonder that
Voltaire cried out, "Christian religion, behold thy consequences!" if
he could calculate that ten million lives had been immolated on the
altar of a spurious Christianity. One hundred thousand were slain in
the Bartholomew massacre alone. Righteousness, peace, and love
were not the monster which Voltaire laboured to crush: he was most
intensely incensed against the blind and bigoted priesthood, against
the malicious and murderous servants who ate the bread of a holy
and harmless Master, against "their intolerance of light and hatred of
knowledge, their fierce yet profoundly contemptible struggles with
one another, the scandals of their casuistry, their besotted cruelty."
[273] We have been betrayed into speaking thus strongly of the
extreme lengths to which superstition will carry those who yield
themselves to its ruthless tyranny. But perhaps we have not gone far
from our subject, after all; for the innocent Iphigenia, whose doom
kindled our ire, was sacrificed to the goddess of the moon.
II. LUNAR FANCIES.
There are a few phosphorescent fancies about the moon, like _ignes
fatui_,
"Dancing in murky night o'er fen and lake,"
which we may dispose of in a section by themselves. Those of them
that are mythical are too evanescent to become full-grown myths;
and those which are religious are too volatile to remain in the
solution or salt of any bottled creed. Like the wandering lights of the
Russians, answering to our will-o'-the-wisp, they are the souls of
still-born children. There is, for example, the insubstantial and
formless but pleasing conception of the Indian Veda. In the
Ramayanam the moon is a good fairy, who in giving light in the
night assumes a benignant aspect and succours the dawn. In the
Vedic hymn, Raka, the full moon, is exhorted to sew the work with
a needle which cannot be broken. Here the moon is personified as
preparing during the night her luminous garments, one for the
evening, the other for the morning, the one lunar and of silver, the
other solar and of gold. [274] Another notion, equally airy but more
religious, has sprung up in Christian times and in Catholic countries.
It is that heathen fancy which connects the moon with the Virgin
Mary. Abundant evidence of this association in the minds of Roman
Catholics is furnished by the style of the ornaments which crowd the
continental churches. One of the most conspicuous is the sun and
moon in conjunction, precisely as they are represented on
Babylonian and Grecian coins; and the identification of the Virgin
and her Child with the moon any Roman Catholic cathedral will
show. [275] The _Roman Missal_ will present to any reader "Sancta
Maria, coeli Regina, et mundi Domina"; the _Glories of Mary_ will
exhibit her as the omnipotent mother, Queen of the Universe; and
Ecclesiastical History will declare how, as early as the close of
the fourth century, the women who were called Collyridians
worshipped her "as a goddess, and judged it necessary to appease
her anger, and seek her favour and protection, by libations,
sacrifices, and oblations of cakes (_collyridae_)." [276] This is but a
repetition of the women kneading dough to make cakes to the queen
of heaven, as recorded by Jeremiah; and proves that the relative
position occupied by Astarte in company with Baal, Juno with
Jupiter, Doorga with Brahma, and Ma-tsoo-po with Boodh, is that
occupied by Mary with God. Nay more, she is "Mater Creatoris"
and "Dei Genetrix": Mother of the Creator, Mother of God. Having
thus been enthroned in the position in the universal pantheon which
was once occupied by the moon, what wonder that the ignorant
devotee should see her in that orb, especially as the sun, moon, and
stars of the Apocalypse are her chief symbols. Southey has recorded
a good illustration of this superstitious fancy. "A fine circumstance
occurred in the shipwreck of the _Santiago_, 1585. The ship struck
in the night; the wretched crew had been confessing, singing
litanies, etc., and this they continued till, about two hours before
break of day, the moon arose beautiful and exceeding bright; and
forasmuch as till that time they had been in such darkness that they
could scarcely sec one another when close at hand, such was the stir
among them at beholding the brightness and glory of that orb, that
most part of the crew began to lift up their voices, and with tears,
cries, and groans called upon Our Lady, saying they saw her in the
moon." [277]
The preceding fancies would produce upon the poetic and religious
sense only an agreeable effect. Other hallucinations have wrought
effects of an opposite kind. The face in the moon does not always
wear an amiable aspect, and it is not unnatural that those who have
been taught to believe in angry gods and frowning providences
should see the caricatures of their false teachers reproduced in the
heavens above and in the earth beneath. We are reminded here of
the magic mirror mentioned by Bayle. There is a trick, invented by
Pythagoras, which is performed in the following manner. The moon
being at the full, some one writes with blood on a looking-glass
anything he has a mind to; and having given notice of it to another
person, he stands behind that other and turns towards the moon the
letters written in the glass. The other looking fixedly on the shining
orb reads in it all that is written on the mirror as if it were written on
the moon. [278] This is precisely the _modus operandi_ by which
the knavish have imposed upon the foolish in all ages. The
manipulator of the doctrine stands behind his credulous disciple,
writing out of sight his invented science or theology, and writing too
often with the blood of some innocent victim. The poor patient
student is meanwhile gazing on the moon in dreamy devotion; until
as the writing on the mirror is read with solemn intonation, it all
appears before his moon-struck gaze as a heavenly revelation. Woe
to the truth-loving critic who breaks the enchantment and the mirror,
crying out in the vernacular tongue, Your mysteries are myths, your
writings are frauds; and the fair moon is innocent of the lying
imposition!
To multitudes the moon has always been an object of terror and
dread. Not only is it a supramundane and magnified man--that it
will always be while its spots are so anthropoid, and man himself is
so anthropomorphic--but it has ever been, and still is, a being of
maleficent and misanthropic disposition. As Mr. Tylor says, "When
the Aleutians thought that if any one gave offence to the moon, he
would fling down stones on the offender and kill him; or when the
moon came down to an Indian squaw, appearing in the form of a
beautiful woman with a child in her arms, and demanding an
offering of tobacco and fur-robes: what conceptions of personal life
could be more distinct than these?" [279] Personal and distinct,
indeed, but far from pleasant. Another author tells us that "in some
parts of Scotland to point at the stars or to do aught that might be
considered an indignity in the face of the sun or moon, is still to be
dreaded and avoided; so also it was not long since, probably still is,
in Devonshire and Cornwall. The Jews seem to have been equally
superstitious on this point (Jer. viii. 1, 2), and the Persians believed
leprosy to be an infliction on those who had committed some
offence against the sun." [280] Southey supplies us with an
illustration of the moon in a fit of dudgeon. He is describing the
sufferings of poor Hans Stade, when he was caught by the
Tupinambas and expected that he was about to die. "The moon was
up, and fixing his eyes upon her, he silently besought God to
vouchsafe him a happy termination of these sufferings. Yeppipo
Wasu, who was one of the chiefs of the horde, and as such had
convoked the meeting, seeing how earnestly he kept gazing
upwards, asked him what he was looking at. Hans had ceased from
praying, and was observing the man in the moon, and fancying that
he looked angry; his mind was broken down by continual terror, and
he says it seemed to him at that moment as if he were hated by God,
and by all things which God had created. The question only half
roused him from this phantasy, and he answered, it was plain that
the moon was angry. The savage asked whom she was angry with,
and then Hans, as if he had recollected himself, replied that she was
looking at his dwelling. This enraged him, and Hans found it
prudent to say that perhaps her eyes were turned so wrathfully upon
the Carios; in which opinion the chief assented, and wished she
might destroy them all." [281] Some such superstitious fear must
have furnished the warp into which the following Icelandic story
was woven. "There was once a sheep-stealer who sat down in a
lonely place, with a leg of mutton in his hand, in order to feast upon
it, for he had just stolen it. The moon shone bright and clear, not a
single cloud being there in heaven to hide her. While enjoying his
gay feast, the impudent thief cut a piece off the meat, and, putting it
on the point of his knife, accosted the moon with these godless
words:--
'O moon, wilt thou
On thy mouth now
This dainty bit of mutton-meat?'
Then a voice came from the heavens, saying:--
'Wouldst thou, thief, like
Thy cheek to strike
This fair key, scorching-red with heat?'
At the same moment, a red-hot key fell from the sky on to the cheek
of the thief, burning on it a mark which he carried with him ever
afterwards. Hence arose the custom in ancient times of branding or
marking thieves." [282] The moral influence of this tale is excellent,
and has the cordial admiration of all who hate robbery and
effrontery: at the same time it exhibits the moon as an irascible
body, with which no liberty may be taken. In short, it is an object of
superstitious awe.