[Footnote 194: _Cf._ Montefiore, _op. cit._ p. 122 _sq._]
[Footnote 195: Halévy, _Mélanges de critique et d'histoire
relatifs aux peuples sémitiques_, p. 371.]
The opposition against ritualism which was started by the
Prophets reached its height in Christ. Men are defiled not by
external uncleanness, but by evil thoughts and evil deeds.[196]
"It is lawful to do well on the sabbath days."[197] Those whose
righteousness does not exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees
shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.[198] The first and
great commandment is that which {719} enjoins love to God, but
the second, according to which a man shall love his neighbour as
himself, "is like unto it."[199] At the same time there are in
the New Testament passages in which God's judgment of men seems
to be represented as determined by theological dogma.[200] The
only sin which can never be forgiven either in this world or in
the world to come, is blasphemy against the Holy Ghost;[201] and
the belief in Jesus is laid down as indispensable for
salvation.[202] According to St. Paul, a man is justified by
faith alone, without the deeds of the law.[203] This doctrine,
which makes man's salvation dependent upon his acceptance of the
Messiahship of Jesus, has had a lasting influence upon Christian
theology, and has, together with certain other dogmas, led to
that singular discrepancy between the notions of divine and human
justice which has up to the present day characterised the chief
branches of the Christian Church.
[Footnote 196: _St. Matthew_, xv. 19 _sq._ _St. Mark_, vii. 6 _sqq._]
[Footnote 197: _St. Matthew_, xii. 12.]
[Footnote 198: _Ibid._ v. 20.]
[Footnote 199: _St. Matthew_, xxii. 37 _sqq._]
[Footnote 200: Toy, _Judaism and Christianity_, p. 82 _sq._]
[Footnote 201: _St. Matthew_, xii. 31 _sq._ _St. Mark_, iii. 28 _sq._]
[Footnote 202: _St. Mark_, xvi. 16. _St. John_, iii. 18, 36;
viii. 24.]
[Footnote 203: _Romans_, iii. 28.]
Some of the early Fathers maintained that the interference and
suffering of Christ, in itself, unconditionally saved all souls
and emptied hell for ever;[204] but this theory never became
popular. According to St. Augustine and, subsequently, Calvinian
theology, the benefits of the atonement are limited to those whom
God, of his sovereign pleasure, has from eternity arbitrarily
elected, the effect of faith and conversion being not to save the
soul, but simply to convince the soul that it is saved. A third
theory--that of Pelagius, Armenius, and Luther--attributes to the
sufferings of Christ a conditional efficacy, depending upon
personal faith in his vicarious atonement, whereas those who for
some reason or other do not possess such faith are excluded from
salvation. A fourth doctrine, which early began to be constructed
by the Fathers and was adopted by the Roman Catholic and the
consistent portion of the Episcopalian Church, declares that by
Christ's vicarious {720} suffering power is given to the Church,
a priestly hierarchy, to save those who confess her authority and
observe her rites, whilst all others are lost. Certain
sectarians, like the Unitarians, or those "liberal Christians"
who do not feel themselves tied by the dogmas of any special
creed, are the only ones among whom we meet with the opinion that
a free soul, who by the immutable laws which the Creator has
established may choose between good and evil, is saved or lost
just so far and so long as it partakes of either the former or
the latter.[205]
[Footnote 204: Alger, _History of the Doctrine of a Future Life_,
pp. 550-552, 563. Farrar, _Mercy and Judgment_, p. 58 _sq._]
[Footnote 205: Alger, _op. cit._ p. 553 _sqq._]
According to the leading doctrines of Christianity, then, the
fates of men beyond the grave are determined by quite other
circumstances than what the moral consciousness by itself
recognises as virtue or vice. They are all doomed to death and
hell in consequence of Adam's sin, and their salvation, if not
absolutely predestined, can only be effected by sincere faith in
the atonement of Christ or by valid reception of sacramental
grace at the hands of a priest. Persons who on intellectual or
moral grounds are unable to accept the dogma of atonement or to
acknowledge the authority of an exacting hierarchy, are subject
to the most awful penalties for a sin committed by their earliest
ancestor, and so are the countless millions of heathen who never
even had an opportunity to embrace the Christian religion. Luther
was considered to have shown an exceptional boldness when he
expressed the hope that "our dear God would be merciful to
Cicero, and to others like him."[206] In the Westminster
Confession of Faith the Divines declared the opinion that men not
professing Christianity may be saved to be "very pernicious, and
to be detested";[207] and in their Larger Catechism they
expressly said that "they who, having never heard the gospel,
know not Jesus Christ, and believe not in him, cannot be saved,
be they never so diligent to frame their lives according to the
light of nature, or the laws of that religion which they
profess."[208] This doctrine has had many {721} adherents up to
the present time,[209] although a more liberal view in favour of
virtuous heathen has obviously been gaining ground.[210] Even in
the case of Christians errors in belief on such subjects as
church government, the Trinity, transubstantiation, original sin,
and predestination, have been declared to expose the guilty to
eternal damnation.[211] In the seventeenth century it was a
common theme of certain Roman Catholic writers that "Protestancy
unrepented destroys salvation,"[212] while the Protestants on
their part taxed Du Moulin with culpable laxity for admitting
that some Roman Catholics might escape the torments of hell.[213]
Nathanael Emmons, the sage of Franklin, tells us that "it is
absolutely necessary to approve of the doctrine of reprobation in
order to be saved."[214]
[Footnote 206: Farrar, _op. cit._ p. 146.]
[Footnote 207: _Confession of Faith_, x. 4.]
[Footnote 208: _Larger Catechism_, Answer to Question 60.]
[Footnote 209: Farrar, _op. cit._ p. 146 _sq._]
[Footnote 210: Prentiss, 'Infant Salvation,' in _Presbyterian
Review_, iv. 576. For earlier instances of this opinion see
Abbot, 'Literature of the Doctrine of a Future Life,' forming an
Appendix to Alger's _History of the Doctrine of a Future Life_,
pp. 859, 863, 865.]
[Footnote 211: Abbot, _loc. cit._ p. 863.]
[Footnote 212: Wilson, _Charity Mistaken, with the Want whereof
Catholickes are unjustly charged, for affirming . . . that
Protestancy unrepented destroys Salvation_.]
[Footnote 213: Abbot, _loc. cit._ p. 860.]
[Footnote 214: Emmons, _Works_, iv. 336.]
Besides the heathen there is another large class of people whom
Christian theology has condemned to hell for no fault of theirs,
namely, infants who have died unbaptised. From a very early age
the water of baptism was believed by the Christians to possess a
magic power to wipe away sin,[215] and since the days of St.
Augustine it was deemed so indispensable for salvation that any
child dying without "the bath of regeneration" was regarded as
lost for ever.[216] St. Augustine admitted that the punishment of
such children was of the mildest sort,[217] but other writers
were more severe; St. Fulgentius condemned to "everlasting
punishment in eternal fire" even infants who died in their
mother's womb.[218] However, {722} the notion that unbaptised
children will be tormented, gradually gave way to a more humane
opinion. In the middle of the twelfth century Peter Lombard
determined that the proper punishment of original sin, when no
actual sin is added to it, is "the punishment of loss," that is,
loss of heaven and the sight of God, but not "the punishment of
sense," that is, positive torment. This doctrine was confirmed by
Innocentius III. and shared by the large majority of the
schoolmen, who assumed the existence of a place called _limbus_,
or _infernus puerorum_, where unbaptised infants will dwell
without being subject to torture.[219] But the older view was
again set up by the Protestants, who generally maintained that
the due punishment of original sin is, in strictness, damnation
in hell, although many of them were inclined to think that if a
child dies by misfortune before it is baptised the parents'
sincere intention of baptising it, together with their prayers,
will be accepted with God for the deed.[220] In the Confession of
Augsburg the Anabaptistic doctrine is emphatically
condemned;[221] and although Zwingli rejected the dogma that
infants dying without baptism are lost, and Calvin, in harmony
with his theory of election, refused to tie the salvation of
infants to an outward rite, the necessity of baptism as the
ordinary channel of receiving grace appears to have been a
general belief in the Reformed churches throughout the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries.[222] The damnation of infants was in
fact an acknowledged doctrine of Calvinism,[223] though an
exception was made for the children of pious parents.[224] But in
the latter part of the eighteenth century Toplady, who was a
vehement Calvinist, avowed {723} his belief in the universal
salvation of all departed infants, whether baptised or
unbaptised.[225] And a hundred years later Dr. Hodge thought he
was justified in stating that the common opinion of evangelical
Protestants was that "all who die in infancy are saved."[226] The
accuracy of this statement, however, seems somewhat doubtful. In
1883 Mr. Prentiss wrote of the doctrine of infant salvation
independently of baptism:--"My own impression is that, had it
been taught as unequivocally in the Presbyterian Church even a
third of a century ago, by a theologian less eminent than Dr.
Hodge for orthodoxy, piety, and weight of character, it would
have called forth an immediate protest from some of the more
conservative, old-fashioned Calvinists."[227]
[Footnote 215: Tertullian, _De baptismo_, 1 _sqq._ (Migne,
_Patrologiæ cursus_, i. 1197 _sqq._). Harnack, _History of
Dogma_, i. 206 _sq._; ii. 227. Stanley, _Christian Institutions_,
p. 16. Lewis, _Paganism surviving in Christianity_, pp. 72, 73,
129, 144 _sq._]
[Footnote 216: Bingham, _Works_, iii. 488 _sqq._ Prentiss, _loc.
cit._ p. 549.]
[Footnote 217: St. Augustine, _De peccatorum meritis et
remissione_, i. 16 (Migne, _op. cit._ xliv. 16).]
[Footnote 218: St. Fulgentius, _De fide_, 27 (Migne, _op. cit._
lxv. 701).]
[Footnote 219: Wall, _History of Infant-Baptism_, i. 460 _sq._]
[Footnote 220: _Ibid._ i. 462, 468. Luther and his followers,
however, speak more doubtfully about the efficacy of the parents'
unrealised intention, and lay much stress on actual baptism
(_ibid._ i. 469).]
[Footnote 221: _Augsburg Confession_, i. 9.]
[Footnote 222: Prentiss, _loc. cit._ p. 550.]
[Footnote 223: Calvin, _Institutio Christiana religionis_, iv.
15. 10, vol. ii. 371. Norton, _Tracts concerning Christianity_,
p. 179 _sqq._]
[Footnote 224: Calvin, _op. cit._ iv. 16. 9, vol. ii. 383 _sq._
Wall, _op. cit._ i. 469. Anderson, 'Introductory Essay,' to
Logan's _Words of Comfort for Parents bereaved of Little
Children_, p. xxi.]
[Footnote 225: Toplady, _Works_, p. 645 _sq._]
[Footnote 226: Hodge, _Systematic Theology_, i. 26 _sq._]
[Footnote 227: Prentiss, _loc. cit._ p. 559. See also Anderson,
_loc. cit._ p. xxiii.]
In order fully to realise the true import of the dogma of
damnation it is necessary to consider the punishment in store for
the condemned. The immense bulk of the Christians have always
regarded hell and its agonies as material facts.[228] Origen, who
was a Platonist and an heretic on many points, was severely
censured for saying that the fire of hell was inward and of the
conscience rather than outward and of the body;[229] and in the
later Middle Ages Scotus Erigena showed unusual audacity in
questioning the locality of hell and the material tortures of the
condemned.[230] The punishment is burning--a penalty which even
in the most barbaric codes is reserved for the very gravest
crimes; and some great divines, like Jeremy Taylor and Jonathan
Edwards, have been anxious to point out that the fire of hell is
infinitely more painful than any fire on earth, being "fierce
enough to melt the very rocks and elements."[231] This awful
punishment also exceeds in dreadfulness anything which even the
most vivid imagination can conceive, because it will last not for
a passing moment, {724} nor for a year or a hundred, thousand,
million, or milliard years, but for ever and ever. In case any
doubt should arise as regards the physical capacity of the damned
to withstand the heat, we are assured by some modern theologians
that their bodies will be annealed like glass or asbestos-like or
of the nature of salamanders.[232] This, then, is the future
state of the large majority of men, quite independently of any
fault of their own, or of the degree of their "guilt."[233] It
would seem that even the felicity of the few who are saved must
be seriously impaired by their contemplation of this endless and
undescribable misery, but we are told that the case is just the
reverse. They become as merciless as their god. Thomas Aquinas
says that a perfect sight of the punishment of the damned is
granted to them that they "may enjoy their beatitude and the
grace of God more richly."[234] And the Puritans, especially,
have revelled in the idea that "the sight of hell torments will
exalt the happiness of the saints for ever," as a sense of the
opposite misery always increases the relish of any pleasure.[235]
[Footnote 228: Alger, _op. cit._ p. 516.]
[Footnote 229: _Ibid._ p. 516.]
[Footnote 230: Milman, _History of Latin Christianity_, ix. 88,
n. k.]
[Footnote 231: Alger, _op. cit._ p. 516 _sq._]
[Footnote 232: Alger, _op. cit._ pp. 518, 520. _Cf._ St.
Augustine, _De Civitate Dei_, xxi. 2 _sqq._]
[Footnote 233: For the numbers of souls supposed to be lost see
Alger, _op. cit._ p. 530 _sqq._ St. Chrysostom (_In Acta
Apostolorum Homil. XXIV._ 4 (Migne, _op. cit._ Ser. Graeca, lx.
189]) doubted whether out of the many thousands of souls
constituting the Christian population of Antioch in his day one
hundred would be saved. And at the end of the seventeenth century
a History Professor at Oxford published a book to prove "that not
one in a hundred thousand (nay probably not one in a million)
from Adam down to our times, shall be saved" (Du-Moulin, _Moral
Reflections upon the Number of the Elect_, title page).]
[Footnote 234: Thomas Aquinas, _Summa theologica_, iii.
Supplementum, qu. xciv. 1. 2 (Migne, _op. cit._ Ser. Secunda,
iv. 1393).]
[Footnote 235: Jonathan Edwards, _Works_, vii. 480. Alger,
_op. cit._ p. 541.]
In the present times there is a distinct tendency among Christian
theologians to humanise somewhat the doctrines of the future
life.[236] But if Christianity is to be judged from the dogmas
which almost from its beginning until quite recent times have
been recognised by the immense majority of its adherents, it must
be admitted that its {725} conception of a heavenly Father and
Judge has been utterly inconsistent with all ordinary notions of
goodness and justice. Calvin himself avowed that the decree
according to which the fall of Adam involved, without remedy, in
eternal death so many nations together with their infant
children, was a "horrible" one. "But," he adds, "no one can deny
that God foreknew the future final fate of man before he created
him, and that he did foreknow it because it was appointed by his
own decree."[237]
[Footnote 236: Thus the doctrine of endless torments is opposed
by a considerable number of theologians (Alger, _op. cit._ p.
546), and, "if held, is not practically taught by the vast
majority of the English clergy" (Stanley, _op. cit._ p. 94).]
[Footnote 237: Calvin, _op. cit._ iii. 23. 7, vol. ii. 151.]
Like Christianity, Muhammedanism adorns its godhead with the
highest moral attributes and at the same time ascribes to him
decrees and actions which flatly contradict even the most
elementary notions of human justice. The god of Islam is
addressed as the compassionate and merciful; but his love is
restricted to "those who fear,"[238] and his mercy can only be
gained by that submissiveness or self-surrender which is
indicated by the very name of Islam. He demands a righteous life,
he punishes the wrongdoer and rewards the charitable.[239]
Through his Prophet he has revealed to mankind both the rules of
morality and the elements of a social system containing minute
regulations for a man's conduct in various circumstances of life,
with due rewards or penalties according to his fulfilment of
these regulations.[240] The whole constitution of the State has
on it a divine stamp; as an Arab proverb says, "country and
religion are twins."[241] But foremost among duties is to believe
in God and his Prophet. "God," it is said, "does not pardon
polytheism and infidelity, but He can, if He willeth, pardon
other crimes."[242] And the "pillars of religion" are the five
duties of reciting the Kalimah or creed, of performing the five
stated daily prayers, of fasting--especially in the month of
Rama[d.]ân,--of giving the legal alms, and of making the
pilgrimage to Mecca.[243] These duties are based on clear {726}
sentences of the Koran, but the traditions have raised the most
trivial ceremonial observances into duties of the greatest
importance. It is true that hypocrisy and formalism without
devotion were strongly condemned by Muhammed. "Righteousness," he
said, "is not that ye turn your faces towards the East or the
West, but righteousness is, one who believes in God, and the last
day, and the angels, and the Book, and the prophets, and who
gives wealth for His love to kindred, and orphans, and the poor,
and the son of the road, and beggars, and those in captivity; and
who is steadfast in prayer, and gives alms; and those who are
sure of their covenant when they make a covenant; and the patient
in poverty, and distress, and in time of violence; these are they
who are true, and these are those who fear."[244] Yet in
Muhammedanism, as in other ritualistic religions, the chief
importance is practically attached to the punctual performance of
outward ceremonies, and the virtue of prayer is made dependent
upon an ablution.[245] In the future life the felicity or
suffering of each person will be proportionate to his merits or
demerits,[246] but the admittance into paradise depends in the
first place on faith. "Those who believe, and act righteously,
and are steadfast in prayer, and give alms, theirs is their hire
with their Lord."[247] Those who have acknowledged the faith of
Islam and yet acted wickedly will be punished in hell for a
certain period, but will finally enter paradise.[248] As regards
the future state of certain infidels the Koran contains
contradictory statements. In one place it is said, "Verily,
whether it be of those who believe, or those who are Jews or
Christians or Sabaeans, whosoever believe in God and {727} the
last day and act aright, they have their reward at their Lord's
hand, and there is no fear for them, nor shall they grieve."[249]
But this passage is considered to have been abrogated by another
where it is stated that whoso desires any other religion than
Islam shall in the next world be among the lost.[250] The
punishments inflicted upon unbelievers are no less horrible than
the torments of the Christian hell. Yet in one point the
Muhammedan doctrine of the future life is more merciful than the
dogmas of Christianity. The children of believers will all go to
paradise, and the children of unbelievers are generally supposed
to escape hell. Some think they will be in A[(]ráf, a place
situated between heaven and hell; whilst others maintain that
they will be servants to the true believers in paradise.[251]
[Footnote 238: _Koran_, iii. 70.]
[Footnote 239: _Supra_, i. 553.]
[Footnote 240: _Cf._ Muir, _Life of Mahomet_, iii. 295 _sq._;
Lane-Poole, _Studies in a Mosque_, p. 101.]
[Footnote 241: Sell, _Faith of Islám_, pp. 19, 39.]
[Footnote 242: _Ibid._ p. 241.]
[Footnote 243: _Ibid._ p. 251.]
[Footnote 244: _Koran_, ii. 172.]
[Footnote 245: _Cf._ Polak, _Persien_, i. 9; Wallin,
_Reseanteckningar från Orienten_, iv. 284 _sq._; Sell, _op. cit._
p. 256.]
[Footnote 246: Lane, _Manners and Customs of the Modern
Egyptians_, i. 95 _sq._ Sell, _op. cit._ p. 231. Lane-Poole,
_Studies in a Mosque_, p. 319.]
[Footnote 247: _Koran_, ii. 277.]
[Footnote 248: Lane, _op. cit._ i. 95. Sell, _op. cit._ p. 228.
The Mu[(]tazilas, however, teach that the Muslim who enters hell
will remain there for ever. They maintain that the person who,
having committed great sins, dies unrepentant, though not an
infidel, ceases to be a believer, and hence suffers as the
infidels do, though the punishment is lighter than that which an
infidel receives (Sell, _op. cit._ pp. 229, 241).]
[Footnote 249: _Koran_, ii. 59.]
[Footnote 250: _Ibid._ iii. 79. Sell, _op. cit._ p. 359
_sq._]
[Footnote 251: Sell, _op. cit._ p. 204 _sq._]
The formalism of Muhammedan orthodoxy has from time to time
called forth protests from minds with deeper aspirations. The
earlier Muhammedan mystics sought to impart life to the rigid
ritual;[252] and in the nineteenth century Bábíism revolted
against orthodox Islam, opposing bigotry and enjoining friendly
intercourse with persons of all religions.[253] At present there
are some liberal Muhammedans who set aside the scholastic
tradition, maintain the right of private interpretation of the
Koran, and warmly uphold the adaptability of Islam to the most
advanced ideas of civilisation.[254] To them Muhammed's mission
was chiefly that of a moral reformer. "In Islam," says Syed Ameer
Ali, "the service of man and the good of humanity constitute
pre-eminently the service and worship of God."[255]
[Footnote 252: _Ibid._ p. 110.]
[Footnote 253: _Ibid._ p. 136 _sqq._]
[Footnote 254: Ameer Ali, _Life and Teachings of Mohammed_,
_passim_. _Idem_, _Ethics of Islâm_, _passim_. _Cf._ Lane-Poole,
_Studies in a Mosque_, p. 324; Sell, _op. cit._ p. 198
_sq._]
[Footnote 255: Ameer Ali, _Ethics of Islâm_, p. 3 _sq._ _Idem_,
_Life and Teachings of Mohammed_, p. 274.]
In the next chapter I shall try to explain the chief facts now
set forth relating to gods as guardians of **worldly morality.
CHAPTER LII
GODS AS GUARDIANS OF MORALITY (_concluded_)
WE have seen that the gods of uncivilised races are to a very
large extent of a malevolent character, that they as a rule take
little interest in any kind of human conduct which does not
affect their own welfare, and that, if they show any signs of
moral feelings, they may be guardians either of tribal customs in
general or only of some special branch of morality. Among peoples
of a higher culture, again, the gods are on the whole benevolent
to mankind, when duly propitiated. They by preference resent
offences committed against themselves personally; but they also
avenge social wrongs of various kinds, they are superintendents
of human justice, and are even represented as the originators and
sustainers of the whole moral order of the world. The gods have
thus experienced a gradual change for the better; until at last
they are described as ideals of moral perfection, even though,
when more closely scrutinised, their goodness and notions of
justice are found to differ materially from what is deemed good
and just in the case of men.
The malevolence of savage gods is in accordance with the theory
that religion is born of fear. The assumed originators of
misfortunes were naturally regarded as enemies to be propitiated,
whilst fortunate events, if attracting sufficient attention and
appearing sufficiently marvellous to suggest a supernatural
cause, were commonly ascribed to beings who were too good to
require {729} worship. But growing reflection has a tendency to
attribute more amiable qualities to the gods. The religious
consciousness of men becomes less exclusively occupied with the
hurts they suffer, and comes more and more to reflect upon the
benefits they enjoy. The activity of a god which displays itself
in a certain phenomenon, or group of phenomena, appears to them
on some occasions as a source of evil, but on other occasions as
a source of good; hence the god is regarded as partly malevolent,
partly benevolent, and in all circumstances as a being who must
not be neglected. Moreover, a god who is by nature harmless or
good may by proper worship be induced to assist man in his
struggle against evil spirits.[1] This protective function of
gods becomes particularly important when the god is more or less
disassociated from the natural phenomenon in which he originally
manifested himself. Nothing, indeed, seems to have contributed
more towards the improvement of nature gods than the expansion of
their sphere of activity. When supernatural beings can exert
their power in the various departments of life, men naturally
choose for their gods those among them who with great power
combine the greatest benevolence. Men have selected their gods
according to their usefulness. Among the Maoris "a mere trifle,
or natural casualty, will induce a native (or a whole tribe) to
change his Atua."[2] The negro, when disappointed in some of his
speculations, or overtaken by some sad calamity, throws away his
fetish, and selects a new one.[3] When hard-pressed, the
Samoyede, after invoking his own deities in vain, addresses
himself to the Russian god, promising to become his worshipper if
he relieves him from his distress; and in most cases he is said
to be faithful to his promise, though he may still try to keep on
good terms with his former gods by occasionally {730} offering
them a sacrifice in secret.[4] North American Indians attribute
all their good or bad luck to their Manitou, and "if the Manitou
has not been favourable to them, they quit him without any
ceremony, and take another."[5] Among many of the ancient Indians
of Central America there was a regular and systematical selection
of gods. Father Blas Valera says that their gods had annual
rotations and were changed each year in accordance with the
superstitions of the people. "The old gods were forsaken as
infamous, or because they had been of no use, and other gods and
demons were elected. . . . Sons when they inherited, either
accepted or repudiated the gods of their fathers, for they were
not allowed to hold their pre-eminence against the will of the
heir. Old men worshipped other greater deities, but they likewise
dethroned them, and set up others in their places when the year
was over, or the age of the world, as the Indians had it. Such
were the gods which all the nations of Mexico, Chiapa, and
Guatemala worshipped, as well as those of Vera Paz, and many
other Indians. They thought that the gods selected by themselves
were the greatest and most powerful of all the gods."[6] These
are crude instances of a process which in some form or other must
have been an important motive force in religious evolution by
making the gods better suited to meet the wants of their believers.
[Footnote 1: von Rosenberg, _Der malayische Archipel_, p. 162
(Niase). Howard, _Life with Trans-Siberian Savages_, p. 192
(Ainu). Georgi, _Russia_, iii. 273 _sq._ (shamanistic peoples of
Siberia). Buch, 'Die Wotjaken,' in _Acta Soc. Scient. Fennicæ_,
xii. 633. _Supra_, ii. 701, 702, 704 _sq._]
[Footnote 2: Polack, _Manners and Customs of the New Zealanders_,
i. 233.]
[Footnote 3: Wilson, _Western Africa_, p. 212.]
[Footnote 4: Ahlqvist, 'Unter Wogulen und Ostjaken,' in _Acta
Soc. Scient. Fennicæ_, xiv. 240.]
[Footnote 5: Bossu, _Travels through Louisiana_, p. 103. Frazer,
_Totemism_, p. 55.]
[Footnote 6: Blas Valera, quoted by Garcilasso de la Vega, _First
Part of the Royal Commentaries of the Yncas_, i. 124 _sq._]
But men not only select as their gods such supernatural beings as
may be most useful to them in their struggle for life, they also
magnify their good qualities in worshipping them. Praise and
exaggerating eulogy are common in the mouth of a devout
worshipper. In ancient Egypt the god of each petty state was
within it held to be the ruler of the gods, the creator of the
world, and the giver of all good things.[7] So also in Chaldea
the god of {731} a town was addressed by its inhabitants with the
most exalted epithets, as the master or king of all the gods.[8]
The Vedic poets were engrossed in the praise of the particular
deity they happened to be invoking, exaggerating his attributes
to the point of inconsistency.[9] "Every virtue, every
excellence," says Hume, "must be ascribed to the divinity, and no
exaggeration will be deemed sufficient to reach those perfections
with which he is endowed."[10] The tendency of the worshipper to
extol his god beyond all measure is largely due to the idea that
the god is fond of praise,[11] but it may also be rooted in a
sincere will to believe or in genuine admiration. That nations of
a higher culture have especially a strong faith in the power and
benevolence of their gods is easy to understand when we consider
that these are exactly the peoples who have been most successful
in their national endeavours.[12] As the Greeks attributed their
victory over the Persians to the assistance of Zeus,[13] so the
Romans maintained that the grandeur of their city was the work of
the gods whom they had propitiated by sacrifices.[14]
[Footnote 7: Wiedemann, _Religion of the Ancient Egyptians_, p. 11.]
[Footnote 8: Mürdter-Delitzsch, _Geschichte Babyloniens und
Assyriens_, p. 24.]
[Footnote 9: Macdonell, _Vedic Mythology_, p. 16 _sq._ Barth,
_Religions of India_, p. 26. Hopkins, _Religions of India_, p. 139.]
[Footnote 10: Hume, _Philosophical Works_, iv. 353.]
[Footnote 11: See _supra_, ii. 653 _sq._]
[Footnote 12: _Cf._ Oldenberg, _Die Religion des Veda_, p. 281;
Macdonell, _op. cit._ p. 18.]
[Footnote 13: _Supra_, ii. 713.]
[Footnote 14: Cicero, _De natura deorum_, iii. 2.]
The benevolence of a god, however, does not imply that he acts as
a moral judge. A friendly god is not generally supposed to bestow
his favours gratuitously; it is hardly probable, then, that he
should meddle with matters of social morality out of sheer
kindliness and of his own accord. But by an invocation he may be
induced to reward virtue and punish vice. We have often noticed
how closely the retributive activity of gods is connected with
the blessings and curses of men. In order to give efficacy to
their good or evil wishes men appeal to some god, or simply bring
in his name when they pronounce a blessing or a curse; and if
this is regularly done in connection with some particular kind of
conduct, the idea may grow up that the god rewards or punishes it
even independently of {732} any human invocation. Moreover,
powerful curses, as those uttered by parents or strangers, may be
personified as supernatural beings, like the Greek Erinyes; or
the magic energy inherent in a blessing or a curse may become an
attribute of the chief god, owing to the tendency of such a god
to attract supernatural forces which are in harmony with his
general nature.[15] So also, the notion of a persecuting ghost
may be changed into the notion of an avenging god.[16] Various
departments of social morality have thus come to be placed under
the supervision of gods: the rights of life[17] and property,[18]
charity[19] and hospitality,[20] the submissiveness of
children,[21] truthspeaking and fidelity to a given promise.[22]
That gods are so frequently looked upon as guardians of truth and
good faith is, as we have seen, mainly a result of the common
practice of confirming a statement or promise by an oath; and
where the oath is an essential element in the judicial
proceedings, as was the case in the archaic State,[23] the
consequence is that the guardianship of gods is extended to the
whole sphere of justice. Truth and justice are repeatedly
mentioned hand in hand as matters of divine concern. We have seen
how frequently the same gods as are appealed to in oaths or
ordeals are described as judges of human conduct.[24] "En
Égypte," says M. Amélineau, "la vérité et la justice n'avaient
qu'un seul et même nom, _Mât_, qui veut aussi bien dire vérité
que justice, et justice que vérité."[25] Zeus presided over
assemblies and trials;[26] according to a law of Solon, the
judges of Athens had to swear by him.[27] And the Erinyes, the
personifications of oaths and curses, are sometimes represented
by poets and philosophers as guardians of right in general.[28]
[Footnote 15: See _supra_, ii. 68.]
[Footnote 16: _Supra_, i. 378 _sq._]
[Footnote 17: _Supra_, i. 379 _sqq._]
[Footnote 18: _Supra_, ii. 59 _sqq._]
[Footnote 19: _Supra_, i. 561 _sqq._]
[Footnote 20: _Supra_, i. 578 _sqq._]
[Footnote 21: _Supra_, i. 621 _sqq._]
[Footnote 22: _Supra_, ii. 114 _sqq._]
[Footnote 23: Leist, _Græco-italische Rechtsgeschichte_, p. 228.]
[Footnote 24: _Supra_, ii. 115, 116, 121, 122, 686, 687, 699.]
[Footnote 25: Amélineau, _L'évolution des idées morales dans
l'Égypte ancienne_, p. 187. See also _supra_, ii. 115, 699.]
[Footnote 26: Farnell, _Cults of the Greek States_, i. 58.]
[Footnote 27: Pollux, _Onomasticum_, viii. 12. 142.]
[Footnote 28: Rohde, _Psyche_, p. 246.]
{733} It has been said that when men ascribe to their gods a
mental constitution similar to their own they also _eo ipso_
consider them to approve of virtue and disapprove of vice.[29]
But this conclusion is certainly not true in general. Malevolent
gods cannot be supposed to feel emotions which essentially
presuppose altruistic sentiments; and, as we have just noticed,
an invocation is frequently required to induce benevolent gods to
interfere with the worldly affairs of men. Moreover, where the
system of private retaliation prevails, not even the extension of
human analogies to the world of supernatural beings would lead to
the idea of a god who of his own accord punishes social wrongs.
But it is quite probable that such analogies have in some cases
made gods guardians of morality at large, especially ancestor
gods who may readily be supposed not only to preserve their old
feelings with regard to virtue and vice but also to take a more
active interest in the morals of the living, and who are
notoriously opposed to any deviation from ancient custom.[30] I
also admit that the conception of a great or supreme god may
perhaps, independently of his origin, involve retributive justice
as a natural consequence of his power and benevolence towards his
people. Yet it is obvious that even a god like Zeus was more
influenced by the invocation of a suppliant than by his sense of
justice. Dr. Farnell points out that the epithets which designate
him as the god to whom those stricken with guilt can appeal are
far more in vogue in actual Greek cult than those which attribute
to him the function of vengeance and retribution.[31] Hermes was
addressed by thieves as their patron.[32] According to the Talmud
"the thief invokes God while he breaks into the house."[33] And
the Italian bandit begs the Virgin herself to bless his endeavours.
[Footnote 29: Adam Smith, _Theory of Moral Sentiments_, p. 232
_sq._ Darwin, _Descent of Man_, p. 95. Tiele, _Elements of the
Science of Religion_, i. 92 _sq._]
[Footnote 30: See _supra_, ii. 519 _sq._ _Cf._ Tylor,
_Anthropology_, p. 369; Macdonald, _Religion and Myth_, p. 229.]
[Footnote 31: Farnell, _op. cit._ i. 66 _sq._]
[Footnote 32: Schmidt, _Die Ethik der alten Griechen_, i.
136.]
[Footnote 33: Deutsch, _Literary Remains_, p. 57.]
At the same time we must again remember that men {734} ascribe to
their gods not only ordinary human qualities but excellences of
various kinds, and among these may also be a strong desire to
punish wickedness and to reward virtue. The gods of monotheistic
religions in particular have such a multitude of the most
elevated attributes that it would be highly astonishing if they
had remained unconcerned about the morals of mankind. If flattery
and admiration make the deity all-wise, all-powerful, all-good,
they also make him the supreme judge of human conduct. And there
is yet another reason for investing him with the moral government
of the world. The claims of justice are not fully satisfied on
this earth, where it only too often happens that virtue is left
unrewarded and vice escapes unpunished, that right succumbs and
wrong triumphs; hence persons with deep moral feelings and a
religious or philosophical bent of mind are apt to look for a
future adjustment through the intervention of the deity, who
alone can repair the evils and injustices of the present. This
demand of final retribution is sometimes so strongly developed
that it even leads to the belief in a deity when no other proof
of his existence is found convincing. Kant maintained that we
must postulate a future life in which everybody's happiness is
proportionate to his virtue, and that such a postulate involves
the belief in a God of infinite power, wisdom, and goodness who
governs the moral as well as the physical world. Not even
Voltaire could rid himself of the notion of a rewarding and
avenging deity, whom, if he did not exist, "it would be necessary
to invent."
The belief in a god who acts as a guardian of **worldly morality
undoubtedly gives emphasis to its rules. To the social and legal
sanctions a new one is added, which derives particular strength
from the supernatural power and knowledge of the deity. The
divine avenger can punish those who are beyond the reach of human
justice and those whose secret wrongs even escape the censure of
their fellow men. But on the other hand there are also certain
circumstances which considerably detract from the {735} influence
of the religious sanction when compared with other sanctions of
morality. The supposed punishments and rewards of the future life
have the disadvantage of being conceived as very remote; and fear
and hope decrease in inverse ratio to the distance of their
objects. Men commonly live in the happy illusion that death is
far off, even though it in reality is very near, hence also the
retribution after death appears distant and unreal and is
comparatively little thought of by the majority of people who
believe in it. Moreover, there seems always to be time left for
penance and repentance. Manzoni himself admitted, in his defence
of Roman Catholicism, that many people think it an easy matter to
procure that feeling of contrition by which, according to the
doctrine of the Church, sins may be cancelled, and therefore
encourage themselves in the commission of crime through the
facility of pardon. The frequent assumption that the moral law
would hardly command obedience without the belief in retribution
beyond the grave is contradicted by an overwhelming array of
facts. We hear from trustworthy witnesses that unadulterated
savages follow their own rules of morality no less strictly, or
perhaps more strictly, than civilised people follow theirs. Nay,
it is a common experience that contact with a higher civilisation
exercises a deteriorating influence upon the conduct of
uncultured races, although we may be sure that Christian
missionaries do not fail to impart the doctrine of hell to their
savage converts.
It has also been noticed that a high degree of religious devotion
is frequently accompanied by great laxity of morals. Of the
Bedouins Mr. Blunt writes that, with one or two exceptions, "the
practice of religion may be taken as the sure index of low
morality in a tribe."[34] Wallin, who had an intimate and
extensive knowledge of Muhammedan peoples, often found that those
Muslims who attended to their prayers most regularly were the
greatest scoundrels.[35] "One of the most remarkable traits {736}
in the character of the Copts," says Lane, "is their bigotry";
and at the same time they are represented as "deceitful,
faithless, and abandoned to the pursuit of worldly gain, and to
indulgence in sensual pleasure."[36] Among two hundred Italian
murderers Ferri did not find one who was irreligious; and Naples,
which has the worst record of any European city for crimes
against the person, is also the most religious city in
Europe.[37] On the other hand, according to Dr. Havelock Ellis,
"it seems extremely rare to find intelligently irreligious men in
prison";[38] and Laing, who himself was anything but sceptical,
observed that there was no country in Europe where there was so
much morality and so little religion as Switzerland.[39] Most
religions contain an element which constitutes a real peril to
the morality of their votaries. They have introduced a new kind
of duties--duties towards gods;--and, as we have noticed above,
even where religion has entered into close union with worldly
morality, much greater importance has been attached to ceremonies
or worship or the niceties of belief than to good behaviour
towards fellow men. People think that they may make up for lack
of the latter by orthodoxy or pious performances. A Christian
bishop of the seventh century, who was canonised by the Church of
Rome, described a good Christian as a man "who comes frequently
to church; who presents the oblation which is offered to God upon
the altar; who doth not taste of the fruits of his own industry
until he has consecrated a part of them to God; who, when the
holy festivals approach, lives chastely even with his own wife
during several days, that with a safe conscience he may draw near
the altar of God; and who, in the last place, can repeat the
Creed and the Lord's Prayer."[40] A scrupulous observance of
external ceremonies--that is all which in this description is
required {737} of a good Christian. And since then popular ideas
on the subject have undergone but little change. Smollett
observes in his 'Travels into Italy' that it is held more
infamous to transgress the slightest ceremonial institution of
the Church of Rome than to transgress any moral duty; that a
murderer or adulterer will be easily absolved by the Church, and
even maintain his character in society; but that a man who eats a
pigeon on a Saturday is abhorred as a monster of reprobation.[41]
In the nineteenth century Simonde de Sismondi could write:--"Plus
chaque homme vicieux a été régulier à observer les commandemens
de l'Église, plus il se sent dans son c[oe]ur dispensé de
l'observation de cette morale céleste, à laquelle il faudroit
sacrifier ses penchans dépravés."[42] And how many a Protestant
does not imagine that by going to church on Sundays he can sin
more freely on the six days between.
[Footnote 34: Mr. Blunt, in Lady Anne Blunt's _Bedouin Tribes of
the Euphrates_, ii. 217.]
[Footnote 35: Wallin, _Reseanteckningar från Orienten_, iii. 166.]
[Footnote 36: Lane, _Manners and Customs of the Modern
Egyptians_, p. 551.]
[Footnote 37: Havelock Ellis, _The Criminal_, p. 156.]
[Footnote 38: _Ibid._ p. 159.]
[Footnote 39: Laing, _Notes of a Traveller_, pp. 323, 324, 333.]
[Footnote 40: Robertson, _History of the Reign of the Emperor
Charles V._ i. 282 _sq._]
[Footnote 41: Smollett, quoted by Kames, _Sketches of the
History of Man_, iv. 380.]
[Footnote 42: Simonde de Sismondi, _Histoire des républiques
italiennes du moyen-âge_, xvi. 419.]
It should also be remembered that the religious sanction of moral
rules only too often leads to an external observance of these
rules from purely selfish motives. Christianity itself has,
essentially, been regarded as a means of gaining a blessed
hereafter. As for its influence upon the moral life of its
adherents I agree with Professor Hobhouse that its chief strength
lies not in its abstract doctrines but in the simple personal
following of Christ.[43] In moral education example plays a more
important part than precept. But even in this respect
Christianity has unfortunately little reason to boast of its
achievements.
[Footnote 43: Hobhouse, _Morals in Evolution_, ii. 159.]
CHAPTER LIII
CONCLUSION
WE have completed our task. Only a few words will be added to
emphasise the leading features of our theory of the moral
consciousness and to point out some general conclusions which may
be drawn as regards its evolution.
Our study of the origin and development of the moral ideas was
divided into three main sections. As moral ideas are expressed in
moral judgments, we had to examine the general nature of both the
predicates and the subjects of such judgments, as well as the
moral valuation of the chief branches of conduct with which the
moral consciousness of mankind concerns itself. And in each case
our aim was not only to describe or analyse but also to explain
the phenomena which came under our observation.
The theory was laid down that the moral concepts, which form the
predicates of moral judgments, are ultimately based on moral
emotions, that they are essentially generalisations of tendencies
in certain phenomena to call forth either indignation or
approval. It was therefore necessary for us to investigate the
nature and origin of these emotions, and subsequently to consider
their relations to the various moral concepts.
We found that the moral emotions belong to a wider class of
emotions, which may be described as retributive; that moral
disapproval is a kind of resentment, akin to {739} anger and
revenge, and that moral approval is a kind of retributive kindly
emotion, akin to gratitude. At the same time they differ from
kindred non-moral emotions by their disinterestedness, apparent
impartiality, and flavour of generality. As for the origin of the
retributive emotions, we may assume that they have been acquired
by means of natural selection in the struggle for existence; both
resentment and retributive kindly emotion are states of mind
which have a tendency to promote the interests of the individuals
who feel them. This explanation also applies to the moral
emotions in so far as they are retributive: it accounts for the
hostile attitude of moral disapproval towards the cause of pain,
and for the friendly attitude of moral approval towards the cause
of pleasure. Our retributive emotions are always reactions
against pain or pleasure felt by ourselves; this holds true of
the moral emotions as well as of revenge and gratitude. But how
shall we explain those elements in the moral emotions by which
they are distinguished from other, non-moral retributive
emotions? First, why should we, quite disinterestedly, feel pain
evoking indignation because our neighbour is hurt, and pleasure
calling forth approval because he is benefited?
We noticed that sympathy aided by the altruistic sentiment--sympathy
in the common sense of the word--tends to produce disinterested
retributive emotions. In all animal species which possess the
altruistic sentiment in some form or other we may be sure to find
sympathetic resentment as its accompaniment. And this sentiment
may also give rise to disinterested retributive kindly emotion,
even though it is more readily moved by the sight of pain than by
the sight of pleasure and though sympathetic retributive
kindliness has a powerful rival in the feeling of envy. Moreover,
sympathetic retributive emotions may not only be reactions
against sympathetic pain or pleasure, but may also be directly
produced by the cognition of the signs of resentment or of the
signs of retributive kindliness. Punishments and {740} rewards
tend to reproduce the emotions from which they sprang, and
language communicates retributive emotions by terms of
condemnation and by terms of praise. Finally, there are cases of
disinterested retributive emotions into which sympathy does not
enter at all--sentimental antipathies and likings quite
disinterested in character.
There are thus various ways in which disinterested retributive
emotions may originate. But how shall we explain the fact that
disinterestedness together with apparent impartiality and the
flavour of generality have become characteristics by which the
so-called moral emotions are distinguished from other retributive
emotions? To this question the following answer was
given:--Society is the birthplace of the moral consciousness. The
first moral judgments expressed not the private emotions of
isolated individuals but emotions which were felt by the
community at large. Public indignation is the prototype of moral
disapproval and public approval the prototype of moral
approbation. And these public emotions are characterised by
generality, individual disinterestedness, and apparent
impartiality.
The moral emotions give rise to a variety of moral concepts,
which are in different ways connected with the emotions from
which they were derived. Thus moral disapproval is at the bottom
of the concepts bad, vice, and wrong, ought and duty, right and
rights, justice and injustice; whilst moral approval has led to
the concepts good, virtue, and merit. It has, in particular, been
of fundamental importance for the whole of our investigation to
recognise the true contents of the notions of ought and duty. If
these concepts were unanalysable, as they have often been
represented to be, any attempt to explain the origin and
development of the moral ideas would, in my opinion, be a
hopeless failure.
From the predicates of moral judgments we proceeded to consider
their subjects. Generally speaking, such judgments are passed on
conduct or character, and {741} allowance is made for the various
elements of which conduct and character are composed in
proportion as the moral judgment is scrutinising and enlightened.
It is only owing to ignorance or lack of due reflection if, as is
often the case, moral estimates are influenced by external events
which are entirely independent of the agent's will; if
individuals who are incapable of recognising any act of theirs as
right or wrong are treated as responsible beings; if motives are
completely or partially disregarded; if little cognisance is
taken of forbearances in comparison with acts; if want of
foresight or want of self-restraint is overlooked when the effect
produced by it is sufficiently remote. We were also able to
explain _why_ moral judgments are passed on conduct and
character. This is due to the facts that moral judgments spring
from moral emotions; that the moral emotions are retributive
emotions; that a retributive emotion is a reactive attitude of
mind, either kindly or hostile, towards a living being (or
something looked upon in the light of a living being), regarded
as a cause of pleasure or as a cause of pain; and that a living
being is regarded as a true cause of pleasure or pain only in so
far as this feeling is assumed to be caused by its will. It is a
circumstance of the greatest importance that not only moral
emotions but non-moral retributive emotions are felt with
reference to phenomena exactly similar in their general nature to
those on which moral judgments are passed. How could we account
for this remarkable coincidence unless the moral judgments were
based on emotions and the moral emotions were retributive
emotions akin to gratitude and revenge?
Our theory as to the nature of the moral concepts and emotions is
further supported by another and very comprehensive set of facts.
In our discussion of the particular modes of conduct which are
subject to moral valuation and of the judgments passed on them by
different peoples and in different ages, this theory has
constantly been called in to explain the data before us. It is
noteworthy that the very acts, forbearances, and omissions {742}
which are condemned as wrong are also apt to call forth anger and
revenge, and that the acts and forbearances which are praised as
morally good are apt to call forth gratitude. This coincidence,
again, undoubtedly bears testimony both to the emotional basis of
the moral concepts and to the retributive character of the moral
emotions. Thus the conclusions arrived at in the first section of
the work, while helping to explain the facts mentioned in the two
other sections, are at the same time greatly strengthened by
these facts. Any attempt to discover the nature and origin of the
moral consciousness must necessarily take into account the moral
ideas of mankind at large. And though painfully conscious of the
incompleteness of the present treatise, I think I may confidently
ask, with reference to its fundamental thesis, whether any other
theory of the moral consciousness has ever been subjected to an
equally comprehensive test.
The general uniformity of human nature accounts for the great
similarities which characterise the moral ideas of mankind. But
at the same time these ideas also present radical differences. A
mode of conduct which among one people is condemned as wrong is
among another people viewed with indifference or regarded as
praiseworthy or enjoined as a duty. One reason for these
variations lies in different external conditions. Hardships of
life may lead to the killing of infants or abandoning of aged
parents or eating of human bodies; and necessity and the force of
habit may deprive these actions of the stigma which would
otherwise be attached to them. Economic conditions have
influenced moral ideas relating, for instance, to slavery,
labour, and cleanliness; whilst the form of marriage and the
opinions concerning it have been largely determined by such a
factor as the numerical proportion between the sexes. But the
most common differences of moral estimates have undoubtedly a
psychical origin.
When we examine the moral rules of uncivilised races we find that
they in a very large measure resemble those prevalent among
nations of culture. In every savage {743} community homicide is
prohibited by custom, and so is theft. Savages also regard
charity as a duty and praise generosity as a virtue--indeed,
their customs concerning mutual aid are often much more stringent
than our own; and many uncivilised peoples are conspicuous for
their aversion to telling lies. But at the same time there is a
considerable difference between the regard for life, property,
truth, and the general wellbeing of a neighbour, which displays
itself in primitive rules of morality and that which is found
among ourselves. Savages' prohibitions of murder, theft, and
deceit, as also their injunctions of charity and kind behaviour,
have, broadly speaking, reference only to members of the same
community or tribe. They carefully distinguish between an act of
homicide committed among their own people and one where the
victim is a stranger; whilst the former is in ordinary
circumstances disapproved of, the latter is in most cases allowed
and often considered worthy of praise. And the same thing holds
true of theft and lying and other injuries. Apart from the
privileges which are granted to guests, and which are always of
very short duration, a stranger is in early society devoid of all
rights. This is the case not only among savages but among nations
of archaic culture as well. When we from the lower races pass to
peoples more advanced in civilisation we find that the social
unit has grown larger, that the nation has taken the place of the
tribe, and that the circle of persons within which the infliction
of injuries is prohibited has extended accordingly. But the old
distinction between offences against compatriots and harm done to
foreigners remains. Nay, it survives to some extent even among
ourselves, as appears from the prevailing attitude towards war
and the readiness with which wars are waged. But although the
difference between a fellow countryman and a foreigner has not
ceased to affect the moral feelings of men even in the midst of
modern civilisation, its influence has certainly been decreasing.
The doctrine has been set forth, and has been gradually gaining
ground, that our duties towards our {744} fellow men are
universal duties, not restricted by the limits of country or
race. Those who recognise the emotional origin of the rules of
duty find no difficulty in explaining all these facts. The
expansion of the commandments relating to neighbours coincides
with the expansion of the altruistic sentiment. And the cause of
this coincidence at once becomes clear when we consider that such
commandments mainly spring from the emotion of sympathetic
resentment, and that sympathetic resentment is rooted in the
altruistic sentiment.
Besides the extension of duties towards neighbours so as to
embrace wider and wider circles of men, there is another point in
which the moral ideas of mankind have undergone an important
change on the upward path from savagery and barbarism to
civilisation. They have become more enlightened. Though moral
ideas are based upon emotions, though all moral concepts are
essentially generalisations of tendencies in certain phenomena to
call forth moral approval or disapproval, the influence of
intellectual considerations upon moral judgments is naturally
very great. All higher emotions are determined by cognitions--sensations
or ideas; they therefore vary according as the cognitions vary,
and the nature of a cognition may very largely depend upon
reflection or insight. If a person tells us an untruth we are apt
to feel indignant; but if, on due reflection, we find that his
motive was benevolent, for instance a desire to save the life of
the person to whom the untruth was told, our indignation ceases,
and may even be succeeded by approval. The change of cognitions,
or ideas, has thus produced a change of emotions. Now, the
evolution of the moral consciousness partly consists in its
development from the unreflecting to the reflecting stage, from
the unenlightened to the enlightened. This appears from the
decreasing influence of external events upon moral judgments and
from the growing discrimination with reference to motives,
negligence, and other factors in conduct which are carefully
considered by a scrupulous judge. More penetrating reflection has
also reduced {745} the part played by disinterested likes and
dislikes in the formation of moral ideas. When we clearly realise
that a certain act is productive of no real harm but is condemned
simply because it causes aversion or disgust, we can hardly look
upon it as a proper object of moral censure--unless, indeed, its
commission is considered to imply a blamable disregard for other
persons' sensibilities. Deliberate resentment, whether moral or
non-moral, is too much concerned with the will of the agent to be
felt towards a person who obviously neither intends to offend
anybody nor is guilty of culpable oversight. Nay, even when the
agent knows that his behaviour is repulsive to others, he may be
considered justified in acting as he does. Some degree of
reflection easily leads to the notion that sentimental
antipathies are no sufficient ground for interfering with other
individuals' liberty of action either by punishing them or by
subjecting them to moral censure, provided of course that they do
not in an indelicate manner shock their neighbours' feelings.
Hence many persons have recourse to utilitarian pretexts to
support moral opinions or legal enactments which have originated
in mere aversions; thus making futile attempts to reconcile old
ideas with the requirements of a moral consciousness which is
duly influenced by reflection.
In innumerable cases the variations of moral estimates are due to
differences of beliefs. Almost every chapter of this work has
borne witness to the enormous influence which the belief in
supernatural forces or beings or in a future state has exercised
upon the moral ideas of mankind, and has at the same time shown
how exceedingly varied this influence has been. Religion, or
superstition (as the case may be), has on the one hand
stigmatised murder and suicide, on the other hand it has
commended human sacrifice and certain cases of voluntary
self-destruction. It has inculcated humanity and charity, but has
also led to cruel persecutions of persons embracing another
creed. It has emphasised the duty of truthspeaking, and has
itself been a cause of pious fraud. It has promoted {746} both
cleanly habits and filthiness. It has enjoined labour and
abstinence from labour, sobriety and drunkenness, marriage and
celibacy, chastity and temple prostitution. It has introduced a
great variety of new duties and virtues, quite different from
those which are recognised by the moral consciousness when left
to itself, but nevertheless in many cases considered more
important than any other duties or virtues. It seems that the
moral ideas of uncivilised men are more affected by magic than by
religion, and that the religious influence has reached its
greatest extension at certain stages of culture which, though
comparatively advanced, do not include the highest stage.
Increasing knowledge lessens the sphere of the supernatural, and
the ascription of a perfectly ethical character to the godhead
does away with moral estimates which have sprung from less
elevated religious conceptions.
I have here pointed out only the most general changes to which
the moral ideas have been subject in the course of progressive
civilisation; the details have been dealt with each in their
separate place. There can be no doubt that changes also will take
place in the future, and that similar causes will produce similar
effects. We have every reason to believe that the altruistic
sentiment will continue to expand, and that those moral
commandments which are based on it will undergo a corresponding
expansion; that the influence of reflection upon moral judgments
will steadily increase; that the influence of sentimental
antipathies and likings will diminish; and that in its relation
to morality religion will be increasingly restricted to
emphasising ordinary moral rules, and less preoccupied with
inculcating special duties to the deity.
ADDITIONAL NOTES TO VOL. II
P. 287, _n._ 6.--The connection between the Hebrew Sabbath and
the moon has been fully discussed by Professor Webster in his
recent book, _Rest Days_, ch. viii.
P. 377, _n._ 1.--In his book, _Totemism and Exogamy_, Sir J. G.
Frazer has definitely separated exogamy from totemism and
thereby, it is to be hoped, saved us from further speculations
about the totemic origin of the exogamous rules. Like myself,
Frazer thinks (iv. 105 _sqq._) that these rules have sprung from
an aversion to the marriages of near kin. But whilst my own
belief is that the aversion to such marriages through an
association of ideas led to the prohibitions of marriage between
members of the same clan on account of the notion of intimacy
connected with a common descent and a common name, Frazer is of
opinion that exogamy was deliberately instituted for the purpose
of preventing the sexual unions of near kin. To me it seems
almost inconceivable that the extensive, cumbersome, and
sometimes very complicated institution of exogamy should have
been invented simply as a precaution against unions between the
nearest relatives.
Granting the prevalence of an aversion to the marriages of near
kin, Frazer is confronted with the question how it has
originated. His answer is, "We do not know and it is difficult
even to guess." Yet he makes a cautious attempt to solve the
riddle. He observes (iv. 156 _sqq._) that the great severity with
which incest is generally punished by savages seems to show that
they believe it to be a crime which endangers the whole
community. It may have been thought to render the women of the
tribe sterile and to prevent animals and plants from multiplying;
such beliefs, Frazer remarks, appear in point of fact to have
been held by many races in different parts of the world. But he
admits himself that all the peoples who are known to hold them
seem to be agricultural, and that incest is in particular
supposed to have a sterilising effect on the crops. It is indeed
a poor argument to conjecture that a careful search among the
most primitive exogamous peoples now surviving, especially among
the Australian aborigines, might still reveal the existence of a
belief in the sterilising or injurious effects of incest "upon
women generally and particularly upon edible animals and plants."
It may also be asked if it really is reasonable to presume that
an aversion which had originated in the superstition mentioned
could have remained unimpaired among all the civilised nations of
the world. Moreover, if this superstition were the root of the
aversion to incest, we should still have to explain the origin of
the superstition itself, and this Frazer has not even attempted
to do. If, on the other hand, the abhorrence of incest has
originated in the way I have suggested, the superstition which he
is inclined to regard as the cause of that feeling is a very
natural result of it or of the prohibition to which it gave rise.
That this is the case is all the more probable because the same
injurious effects as are attributed to incest are supposed to
result from other sexual irregularities as well, such as adultery
and fornication (_cf._ _supra_, ii. 417).
Sir J. G. Frazer also subjects my theory to a detailed criticism
(iv. 96 _sqq._). He admits that there seems to be some ground for
believing in the existence of "a natural aversion to, or at least
a want of inclination for, sexual intercourse between persons who
have been brought up closely together {748} from early youth";
but he finds it difficult to understand how this could have been
changed into an aversion to sexual intercourse with persons near
of kin, and maintains that, till I explain this satisfactorily,
the chain of reasoning by which I support my theory breaks down
entirely at the crucial point. For my own part I think that the
transition which Frazer finds so difficult to understand is not
only possible and natural, but well-nigh proved by an exactly
analogous case of equally world-wide occurrence and of still
greater social importance, namely, the process which has led to
the association of all kinds of social rights and duties with
kinship. As I have pointed out above (ch. xxxiv.), the maternal
and paternal sentiments, which largely are at the bottom of
parental duties and rights, cannot in their simplest forms be
based on a knowledge of blood relationship, but respond to
stimuli derived from other circumstances, notably the proximity
of the helpless young, that is, the external relationship in
which the offspring from the beginning stand to the parents. Nor
is the so-called filial love in the first instance rooted in
considerations of kinship; it is essentially retributive, the
agreeable feeling produced by benefits received making the
individual look with pleasure and kindliness upon the giver. Here
again the affection is ultimately due to close living together,
and is further strengthened by it, as appears from the cooling
effect of long separation of children from their parents. So also
fraternal love and the duties and rights which have sprung from
it depend in the first place on other circumstances than the idea
of a common blood; and the same may be said of the tie which
binds together relatives more remotely allied. Its social force
is ultimately derived from near relatives' habit of living
together. "Men became gregarious by remaining in the circle where
they were born; if, instead of keeping together with their
kindred, they had preferred to isolate themselves or to unite
with strangers, there would certainly be no blood-bond at all.
The mutual attachment and the social rights and duties which
resulted from this gregarious condition were associated with the
relation in which members of the group stood to one another--the
relation of kinship as expressed by a common name--and these
associations might last even after the local tie was broken,"
being kept up by the common name (_supra_, ii. 203).
Here we have an immense group of facts which, though ultimately
depending upon close living together, have been interpreted in
terms of kinship. Why, then, could not the same have been the
case with the aversion to incest and the prohibitory rules
resulting from it? They really present a most striking analogy to
the instances just mentioned. They have been associated with
kinship because near relatives normally live together. They have
come to include relatives more remotely allied who do not live
together, owing to an association of ideas, especially through
the influence of a common name; clan exogamy has its counterpart,
for instance, in the blood feud as a duty incumbent on the whole
clan. But there are also cases in which marriages between
unrelated persons who have been brought up together in the same
family, or who belong to the same local group, are held blamable
or are actually prohibited; and so there are, even in early
society, social rights and duties which are associated not with a
common descent but with close living together. Frazer asks: "If
the root of the whole matter is a horror of marriage between
persons who have always lived with each other, how comes it that
at the present day that horror has been weakened into a mere
general preference for marriage with persons whose attractions
have not been blunted by long familiarity? . . . Why should the
marriage of a brother with a sister, or of a mother with a son,
excite the deepest detestation, . . . while the origin of it all,
the marriage between housemates, should excite at most a mild
surprise too slight probably to suggest even a subject for a
farce, and should be as legitimate in the eye of the law among
all civilised nations as any other marriage?" For my own part, I
believe that marriage between a man and his foster-daughter or
between a foster-brother {749} and a foster-sister, in case the
social relations between them have been exactly similar to those
of blood-relatives of corresponding degrees, would cause more
than a mild surprise, and appear unnatural and objectionable. As
I have said above (ii. 375), I do not deny that unions between
the nearest blood-relatives inspire a horror of their own, but it
seems quite natural that they should do so considering that from
earliest times the aversion to sexual intercourse between persons
living closely together has been expressed in prohibitions
against unions between kindred. Nor can it be a matter of
surprise that the prohibitory rules so commonly refer to
marriages of kindred alone. Law only takes into account general
and well-defined cases, and hence relationships of some kind or
other between persons who are nearly always kindred are defined
in terms of blood-relationship. This is true not only of the
prohibitions of incest, but of many duties and rights inside the
family circle.
Sir J. G. Frazer raises another objection to my theory. He argues
that, if exogamy resulted from a natural instinct, there would be
no need to reinforce that instinct by legal pains and penalties;
the law only forbids men to do what their instincts incline them
to do, and hence we may always safely assume that crimes
forbidden by law are crimes which many men have a natural
propensity to commit. I must confess that this argument greatly
surprises me. Of course, where there is no transgression there is
no law. But Frazer cannot be ignorant of the variability of
instincts and of the great variability of the sexual instinct;
nor should he forget that there are circumstances in which a
natural sentiment may be blunted and overcome. Would he maintain
that there can be no deep natural aversion to bestiality because
bestiality is forbidden by law, and that the exceptional severity
with which parricide is treated by many law books proves that a
large number of men have a natural propensity to kill their
parents? The law expresses the feelings of the majority and
punishes acts that shock them.
Sir J. G. Frazer accuses me of having extended Darwin's methods
to subjects which only partially admit of such treatment, because
my theory of the origin of exogamy attempts to explain the growth
of a human institution "too exclusively from physical and
biological causes without taking into account the factors of
intelligence, deliberation, and will." This, he adds, is "not
science, but a bastard imitation of it." What have I done to
incur so severe an accusation? I have suggested that the
instinctive aversion to sexual intercourse between persons who
have been living very closely together from early youth may be
the result of natural selection. I am inclined to think--and so
is Frazer--that consanguineous marriages are in some way or other
detrimental to the species. This fact would lead to the
development of a sentiment which would be powerful enough, as a
rule, to prevent injurious unions--a sentiment which would not,
of course, show itself as an innate aversion to sexual
connections with near relatives as such, but as an aversion on
the part of individuals to union with others with whom they lived
closely together from early childhood. These, as a matter of
fact, would be blood-relations, and the result would consequently
be the survival of the fittest. All that I have done, then, is to
appeal to natural selection to explain the origin of a primeval
instinctive sentiment; and I can never believe that this is to
transgress the legitimate boundaries of Darwinism.
Sir J. G. Frazer himself thinks that "we may safely conclude that
infertility is an inevitable consequence of inbreeding continued
through many generations in the same place and under the same
conditions," and in support of this view he quotes the valuable
opinions of Mr. Walter Heape and Mr. F. H. A. Marshall. He thus
finds that the principles of exogamy present "a curious
resemblance" to the principles of scientific breeding, but he
rightly assumes that this analogy cannot be due to any exact
knowledge or farseeing care on the part of its savage founders.
How then shall we explain this analogy? Frazer's answer is that
"it must be an accidental {750} result of a superstition, an
unconscious mimicry of science." In prohibiting incest the poor
savages "blindly obeyed the impulse of the great evolutionary
forces which in the physical world are constantly educing higher
out of lower forms of existence and in the moral world
civilisation out of savagery. If that is so, exogamy has been an
instrument in the hands of that unknown power, the masked wizard
of history, who by some mysterious process, some subtle alchemy,
so often transmutes in the crucible of suffering the dross of
folly and evil into the fine gold of wisdom and good." I hope it
will not be considered uncalled-for impertinence on my part to
ask if this reasoning is a specimen of what Frazer regards as
science proper in contradistinction to my own "bastard imitation
of it"?
In any attempt to explain the origin of exogamy there are, in my
opinion, three parallel groups of facts of general occurrence
which necessarily must be taken into consideration:--Firstly, the
prohibitions of incest and rules of exogamy themselves; secondly,
the aversion to sexual intercourse between persons living
together from early youth; thirdly, the injurious consequences of
inbreeding. As for the facts of the first group, Frazer and I
agree that they all have the same root, exogamy being in some way
or other derived from an aversion to the marriages of near kin.
As for the facts of the second group, Frazer at all events admits
that "there seems to be some ground" for believing in them. As
for the facts of the third group, there is complete agreement
between us. I ask: Is it reasonable to think that there is no
causal connection between these three groups of facts? Is it
right to ignore the second group altogether, as does Frazer, and
to look upon the coincidence of the first and the third as
accidental? I gratefully acknowledge that Frazer's chapter on the
Origin of Exogamy has only strengthened my belief in my own theory.
Other objections to my theory have recently been made by Messrs.
Hose and McDougall in their work on _The Pagan Tribes of Borneo_,
vol. ii., p. 197, note. They observe that intercourse between a
youth and his sister-by-adoption is not regarded as incest in
these tribes, and that they know at least one instance of
marriage between two young Kenyahs brought up together as adopted
brother and sister. "This occurrence of incest between couples
brought up in the same household," they say, "is, of course,
difficult to reconcile with Professor Westermarck's well-known
theory of the ground of the almost universal feeling against
incest, namely, that it depends upon sexual aversion or
indifference engendered by close proximity during childhood."
They moreover maintain that "the occurrence of incest between
brothers and sisters, and the strong feeling of the Sea Dyaks
against incest between nephew and aunt (who often are members of
distinct communities)," are facts which are fatal to this theory.
In my attempt to explain the rules against incest I certainly did
not overlook the fact that these rules very frequently have
reference to persons who are, or may be, members of different
communities, and I found no difficulty in accounting for it (see
_supra_, ii. 369; _History of Human Marriage_, p. 330 _sq._).
Curiously enough Messrs. Hose and McDougall's own attempt to
solve the problem is, if I understand them rightly, based on the
supposition that the prohibitions of intermarriage originally
referred to persons who belonged to the same community. They
write:--"If we accept some such view of the constitution of
primitive society as has been suggested by Messrs. Atkinson and
Lang (_Primal Law_), namely, that the social group consisted of a
single patriarch and a group of wives and daughters, over all of
whom he exercised unrestricted power or rights; we shall see that
the first step towards the constitution of a higher form of
society must have been the strict limitation of his rights over
certain of the women, in order that younger males might be
incorporated in the society and enjoy the undisputed possession
of them. The patriarch, having accepted this limitation of his
rights over his daughters for the sake of the greater security
and strength of the band given by the inclusion of a {751}
certain number of young males, would enforce all the more
strictly upon them his prohibition against any tampering with the
females of the senior generation. Thus very strict prohibitions
and severe penalties against the consorting of the patriarch with
the younger generation of females, _i.e._ his daughters, and
against intercourse between the young males admitted to
membership of the group and the wives of the patriarch, would be
the essential conditions of advance of social organisation. The
enforcement of these penalties would engender a traditional
sentiment against such unions, and these would be the unions
primitively regarded as incestuous. The persistency of the
tendency of the patriarch's jealousy to drive his sons out of the
family group as they attained puberty would render the extension
of this sentiment to brother-and-sister unions easy and almost
inevitable. For the young male admitted to the group would be one
who came with a price in his hand to offer in return for the
bride he sought. Such a price could only be exacted by the
patriarch on the condition that he maintained an absolute
prohibition on sexual relations between his offspring so long as
the young sons remained under his roof." I should like to know
how Messrs. Hose and McDougall, on the basis of this theory,
would explain "the strong feeling of the Sea Dyaks against incest
between nephew and aunt (who often are members of distinct
communities)," and, generally speaking, the rules prohibiting the
intermarriage of persons belonging to different local groups. For
the rest, I must confess that the assumptions on which their
whole theory rests seem to me extremely arbitrary. Brothers are
prohibited from marrying their sisters because the old patriarch
drove away his grown-up sons out of jealousy; but his jealousy
was not strong enough to prevent other young males from joining
the band. On the contrary, he allowed them to be incorporated in
it, because they added to its strength; nay, he gave them his own
daughters in marriage, and refrained henceforth himself from
intercourse with these young women so rigorously that ever since
a father has been prohibited from marrying his daughter. But the
young men had to pay a price for their wives. It may be asked:
Why did not the old patriarch accept a price from his own sons or
let them work for him, instead of mercilessly turning them out of
their old home, although they would have been just as good
protectors of it as anybody else? And why did he give the young
men his _daughters_? He might have kept the young women for
himself and let the young men have the old ones. This is what is
done by the old men in Australia, where the young girls are, as a
rule, allotted to old men, and the boys, whenever they are
allowed to marry, get old _lubras_ as wives (Malinowski, _The
Family among the Australian Aborigines_, p. 259 _sqq._). Yet, in
spite of this custom, there is no country where incest has been
more strictly prohibited than in Australia.
Messrs. Hose and McDougall maintain that the occurrence of incest
between brothers and sisters and the feeling of the Sea Dyaks
against incest between nephew and aunt are facts which seem "to
point strongly to the view that the sentiment has a purely
conventional or customary source." I ask: Is it reasonable to
suppose that, if this were the case, the feeling against sexual
intercourse between the nearest relatives could have so long
survived the conditions from which it sprang without showing any
signs of decay? As I have pointed out above, the prohibited
degrees are very differently defined in the customs or laws of
different peoples, generally being more numerous among peoples
unaffected by modern civilisation than they are in more advanced
communities; and it appears that the extent to which relatives
are prohibited from intermarrying is closely connected with the
intimacy of their social relations. Whilst among ourselves
cousins are allowed to intermarry, there is still a strong
sentiment against intercourse between parents and children and
between brothers and sisters, who in normal cases belong to the
same family circle. Why should the feeling against incest have
survived in this case but not in others, if it had a purely
conventional origin? And how could any law {752} based on
convention alone account for the normal absence of erotic
feelings in the relation between parents and children and
brothers and sisters? It is true that cases of intercourse
between the nearest relatives do occur, but they are certainly
quite exceptional. Messrs. Hose and McDougall say themselves (p.
198) that "incest of any form is very infrequent" among the
tribes of Borneo, and they seem to know of only one instance of
marriage between young Kenyahs brought up together as adopted
brother and sister, although such marriages are allowed. To
maintain that cases of this kind are fatal to my theory seems to
me as illogical as it would be to assume that the occurrence of a
_horror feminæ_ in many men disproves the general prevalence of a
feeling of love between the sexes.
P. 396, _n._ 1.--In his recent work, _The Family among the
Australian Aborigines_, Dr. Malinowski has come to the same
conclusion. He observes that the individual family plays a
foremost part in the social life of those aborigines; it has a
very firm basis in their customs and ideas, and "by no means
bears the features of anything like recent innovation, or a
subordinate form subservient to the idea of group marriage." The
Australian husband had generally a definite sexual "over-right"
over his wife, which secured to him the privilege of disposing of
her, or at least of exercising a certain control over her conduct
in sexual matters, even though this "over-right" did not, as a
rule, amount to an exclusive right. There were customs like
wife-lending, exchange of wives, ceremonial defloration of girls
by old men, the different forms of licence practised at large
tribal gatherings, and especially the _Pirrauru_ relationship
found in several of the southern central tribes. But all this
does not constitute group _marriage_, the complete content of
which does not consist in sexual relations alone. Dr. Malinowski
emphasises the fact that marriage cannot be detached from family
life; "it is defined in all its aspects by the problems of the
economic unity of the family, of the bonds created by common life
in one wurley, through the common rearing of, and affection
towards, the offspring." In nearly all these respects even the
_Pirrauru_ relationship essentially differs from marriage, and
cannot, therefore, seriously encroach upon the individual family.
Nor can we regard this relationship as a survival of previous
group marriage. Dr. Malinowski also points out (p. 89 _sq._) how
highly objectionable it is that "our best informants (especially
Howitt and Spencer and Gillen) describe the facts of sexual life
of to-day in terms of their hypothetical assumptions."
P. 419, _n._ 5.--For Moorish beliefs relating to contact between
sexual uncleanness and holiness see my essays, _The Moorish
Conception of Holiness (Baraka)_, p. 123 _sqq._, and _Ceremonies
and Beliefs connected with Agriculture, certain Dates of the
Solar Year, and the Weather in Morocco_, pp. 17, 22, 23, 28, 46,
47, 54.
P. 463, _n._ 8.--During the years that have passed since the
first edition of this book was issued, the study of homosexuality
has been carried on with remarkable activity. The following books
are exclusively devoted to this subject:--_Das gleichgeschlechtliche
Leben der Naturvölker_, by F. Karsch-Haack (1911), _Intermediate
Types among Primitive Folk_, by Edward Carpenter (1914), and _Die
Homosexualität des Mannes und des Weibes_, by Magnus Hirschfeld
(1914). Carpenter's book chiefly deals with the invert in early
religion and in warfare. Hirschfeld's work is a veritable
encyclopædia of homosexuality--according to Dr. Havelock Ellis,
"not only the largest but the most precise, detailed, and
comprehensive--even the most condensed--work which has yet
appeared on the subject." In 1915 Dr. Havelock Ellis issued a
third, revised and enlarged, edition of his _Sexual Inversion_.
P. 485, _n._ 1.--This passage and, generally, the suggestion that
there is a certain relationship between the social reaction
against homosexuality {753} and against infanticide, have been
excluded from the last edition of Dr. Havelock Ellis's book.
P. 584, _n._ 1.--There is hardly any subject which during the
last four or five years has been more eagerly discussed by
students of social anthropology than the relation between
religion and magic. It has been dealt with, _e.g._, by Sir J. G.
Frazer in _The Magic Art_, by Professor Durkheim in _Les formes
élémentaires de la vie religieuse_, by Dr. Marett in _The
Threshold of Religion_ and other writings, by Dr. Irving King in
_The Development of Religion_, by Professor Leuba in _A
Psychological Study of Religion_, by Mr. Sidney Hartland in
_Ritual and Belief_, and by the present Archbishop of Sweden,
Nathan Söderblom, in his book _Gudstrons uppkomst_. According to
the French school of sociologists, religion is social in its aims
and magic antisocial; and this distinction has lately been
accepted by Dr. Marett, who writes (_Anthropology_, p. 209
_sq._): "Magic I take to include all bad ways, and religion all
good ways, of dealing with the supernormal--bad and good, of
course, not as we may happen to judge them, but as the society
concerned judges them." But this use of the terms is neither in
agreement with traditional usage nor, in my opinion, suitable for
the purpose of scientific classification. Besides black magic, or
witchcraft, there is also white magic; even a medieval theologian
like Albertus Magnus asserts that "magical science is not evil,
since through knowledge of it evil can be avoided and good
attained." The French distinction between magic and religion
implies that a prayer to a god for the destruction of an enemy
must be classified as religion if it is offered in a cause which
is considered just by the community, but as magic if it is
disapproved of. If a man makes a girl drink a love-potion in
order to gain her favour, it is religion if their union is
desirable from the society's point of view, but if he gives the
same drink to another man's wife it is magic. The best part of
what has been hitherto called imitative or hom[oe]opathic magic
no longer remains magic at all; if water is poured out for the
purpose of producing rain it is hom[oe]opathic magic only in case
rain is not wanted by the community, but if it is done during a
drought it is religion. Thus the very same practices are
qualified as religious or magical according as they have social
or antisocial ends; and, as Mr. Hartland rightly asks (_Ritual
and Belief_, p. 76): "How shall we define these ends?"
It should be added, however, that the definition of religion
which I have given in the text has reference only to religion in
the abstract, not to the various religions. In the popular sense
of the word, a religion may include many practices which are what
I have called magical. As I have said above (p. 649), "both
Christianity in its earlier phases and Muhammedanism are full of
magical practices expressly sanctioned by their theology."
Although the magical and the strictly religious attitude differ
from each other, they are not irreconcilable, and may therefore
very well form parts of one and the same religion; there is no
such thing as a magic being opposed to a religion. By a religion
is generally understood a system of beliefs and rules of
behaviour which have reference to men's relations to one or
several supernatural beings whom they call their god or gods,
that is, supernatural beings who are the objects of a regular
cult and between whom and their worshippers there are established
and permanent relationships. If it be admitted that the word
religion may be thus legitimately used in two different senses, I
think there is little ground left for further controversy on the
subject. After all, sociologists may more profitably occupy their
time than by continuous quarrelling about the meaning of terms.
P. 608, _n._ 4.--In _The Dying God_, p. 204, _n._ 1, Sir J. G.
Frazer writes: "There is a good deal to be said in favour of Dr.
Westermarck's theory, which is supported in particular by the
sanctity attributed to the regalia. But on the whole I see no
sufficient reason to abandon the view adopted {754} in the text,
and I am confirmed in it by the Shilluk evidence, which was
unknown to Dr. Westermarck when he propounded his theory."
According to Professor C. G. Seligman to whom Frazer is indebted
for detailed information on the subject (_op. cit._ p. 17 _sqq._)
it is a fundamental article of the Shilluk creed that the spirit
of Nyakang, the divine or semi-divine hero who settled the
Shilluk in their present territory and founded the dynasty of
their kings, is incarnate in the reigning king, who is
accordingly himself invested to some extent with the character of
a divinity. But while the Shilluk hold their kings in high,
indeed religious, reverence and take every precaution against
their accidental death, nevertheless they cherish the conviction
that the king must not be allowed to become ill or senile, lest
with his diminishing vigour the cattle should sicken and fail to
bear their increase, the crops should rot in the fields, and man,
stricken with disease, should die in ever-increasing numbers. To
prevent these calamities it used to be the regular custom with
the Shilluk to put the king to death whenever he showed signs of
ill-health or failing strength. Nay, from Dr. Seligman's
enquiries it appears that even while the king was yet in the
prime of health and strength he might at any time be attacked by
a rival and have to defend his crown in a combat to the death.
According to the common Shilluk tradition any son of a king had
the right thus to fight the king in possession and, if he
succeeded in killing him, to reign in his stead. Now "an
important part of the solemnities attending the accession of a
Shilluk king appears to be intended to convey to the new monarch
the divine spirit of Nyakang, which has been transmitted from the
founder of the dynasty to all his successors on the throne. For
this purpose a sacred four-legged stool and a mysterious object
which bears the name of Nyakang himself are brought with much
solemnity from the shrine of Nyakang at Akurwa to the small
village of Kwom near Fashoda, where the king elect and the chiefs
await their arrival. The thing called Nyakang is said to be of
cylindrical shape, some two or three feet long by six inches
broad. The chief of Akurwa informed Dr. Seligman that the object
in question is a rude wooden figure of a man, which was fashioned
long ago at the command of Nyakang in person. We may suppose that
it represents the divine king himself and that it is, or was
formerly, supposed to house his spirit, though the chief of
Akurwa denied to Dr. Seligman that it does so now. . . . The
image of Nyakang is placed on the stool; the king elect holds one
leg of the stool and an important chief holds another. . . . A
bullock is killed and its flesh eaten by the men of certain
families called _ororo_, who are said to be descended from the
third of the Shilluk kings. Then the Akurwa men carry the image
of Nyakang into the shrine, and the _ororo_ men place the king
elect on the sacred stool, where he remains seated for some time,
apparently till sunset. When he rises, the Akurwa men carry the
stool back into the shrine, and the king is escorted to three new
huts, where he stays in seclusion for three days. On the fourth
night he is conducted quietly, almost stealthily, to his royal
residence at Fashoda, and next day he shows himself publicly to
his subjects."
As regards this so-called evidence it should, first, be noticed
that it is only Dr. Seligman's own conjecture that the mysterious
object called Nyakang is or has been supposed to contain the
spirit of the holy founder of the dynasty, and that this
conjecture is expressly said to be opposed to the present beliefs
of the natives. On the other hand it is obvious that the object
in question is regarded as a holy object, and that its holiness,
or a particle of it, is supposed to be transmitted to the new
king through material contact--an idea which well agrees with my
own theory. But even if the Shilluk had once believed that their
king was a reincarnation of the spirit of Nyakang, that belief
could hardly be regarded as a direct proof of the idea that the
soul of the slain man-god is transmitted to his royal successor.
The Shilluk believe that Nyakang, unlike his royal descendants of
more recent times, did not die but simply disappeared.
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