I conceive that the origin, the growth, the decline, and the fall
of those speculations respecting the existence, the powers, and the
dispositions of beings analogous to men, but more or less devoid of
corporeal qualities, which may be broadly included under the head of
theology, are phenomena the study of which legitimately falls within
the province of the anthropologist. And it is purely as a question of
anthropology (a department of biology to which, at various times, I have
given a good deal of attention) that I propose to treat of the evolution
of theology in the following pages.
With theology as a code of dogmas which are to be believed, or at any
rate repeated, under penalty of present or future punishment, or as a
storehouse of anaesthetics for those who find the pains of life too
hard to bear, I have nothing to do; and, so far as it may be possible,
I shall avoid the expression of any opinion as to the objective truth or
falsehood of the systems of theological speculation of which I may find
occasion to speak. From my present point of view, theology is regarded
as a natural product of the operations of the human mind, under the
conditions of its existence, just as any other branch of science, or
the arts of architecture, or music, or painting are such products. Like
them, theology has a history. Like them also, it is to be met with in
certain simple and rudimentary forms; and these can be connected by a
multitude of gradations, which exist or have existed, among people of
various ages and races, with the most highly developed theologies of
past and present times. It is not my object to interfere, even in the
slightest degree, with beliefs which anybody holds sacred; or to alter
the conviction of any one who is of opinion that, in dealing with
theology, we ought to be guided by considerations different from those
which would be thought appropriate if the problem lay in the province
of chemistry or of mineralogy. And if people of these ways of thinking
choose to read beyond the present paragraph, the responsibility for
meeting with anything they may dislike rests with them and not with me.
We are all likely to be more familiar with the theological history of
the Israelites than with that of any other nation. We may therefore
fitly make it the first object of our studies; and it will be convenient
to commence with that period which lies between the invasion of Canaan
and the early days of the monarchy, and answers to the eleventh and
twelfth centuries B.C. or thereabouts. The evidence on which any
conclusion as to the nature of Israelitic theology in those days must be
based is wholly contained in the Hebrew Scriptures--an agglomeration
of documents which certainly belong to very different ages, but of the
exact dates and authorship of any one of which (except perhaps a few
of the prophetical writings) there is no evidence, either internal or
external, so far as I can discover, of such a nature as to justify more
than a confession of ignorance, or, at most, an approximate conclusion.
In this venerable record of ancient life, miscalled a book, when it
is really a library comparable to a selection of works from English
literature between the times of Beda and those of Milton, we have the
stratified deposits (often confused and even with their natural order
inverted) left by the stream of the intellectual and moral life of
Israel during many centuries. And, embedded in these strata, there are
numerous remains of forms of thought which once lived, and which,
though often unfortunately mere fragments, are of priceless value to
the anthropologist. Our task is to rescue these from their relatively
unimportant surroundings, and by careful comparison with existing forms
of theology to make the dead world which they record live again. In
other words, our problem is palaeontological, and the method pursued
must be the same as that employed in dealing with other fossil remains.
Among the richest of the fossiliferous strata to which I have alluded
are the books of Judges and Samuel. [1] It has often been observed that
these writings stand out, in marked relief from those which precede and
follow them, in virtue of a certain archaic freshness and of a greater
freedom from traces of late interpolation and editorial trimming.
Jephthah, Gideon and Samson are men of old heroic stamp, who would
look as much in place in a Norse Saga as where they are; and if the
varnish-brush of later respectability has passed over these memoirs of
the mighty men of a wild age, here and there, it has not succeeded in
effacing, or even in seriously obscuring, the essential characteristics
of the theology traditionally ascribed to their epoch.
There is nothing that I have met with in the results of Biblical
criticism inconsistent with the conviction that these books give us a
fairly trustworthy account of Israelitic life and thought in the times
which they cover; and, as such, apart from the great literary merit of
many of their episodes, they possess the interest of being, perhaps, the
oldest genuine history, as apart from mere chronicles on the one hand
and mere legends on the other, at present accessible to us.
But it is often said with exultation by writers of one party, and often
admitted, more or less unwillingly, by their opponents, that these
books are untrustworthy, by reason of being full of obviously unhistoric
tales. And, as a notable example, the narrative of Saul's visit to the
so-called "witch of Endor" is often cited. As I have already intimated,
I have nothing to do with theological partisanship, either heterodox or
orthodox, nor, for my present purpose, does it matter very much whether
the story is historically true, or whether it merely shows what the
writer believed; but, looking at the matter solely from the point of
view of an anthropologist, I beg leave to express the opinion that
the account of Saul's necromantic expedition is quite consistent with
probability. That is to say, I see no reason whatever to doubt, firstly,
that Saul made such a visit; and, secondly, that he and all who were
present, including the wise woman of Endor herself, would have given,
with entire sincerity, very much the same account of the business as
that which we now read in the twenty-eighth chapter of the first book of
Samuel; and I am further of opinion that this story is one of the most
important of those fossils, to which I have referred, in the material
which it offers for the reconstruction of the theology of the time. Let
us therefore study it attentively--not merely as a narrative which, in
the dramatic force of its gruesome simplicity, is not surpassed, if it
is equalled, by the witch scenes in Macbeth--but as a piece of evidence
bearing on an important anthropological problem.
We are told (1 Sam. xxviii.) that Saul, encamped at Gilboa, became
alarmed by the strength of the Philistine army gathered at Shunem. He
therefore "inquired of Jahveh," but "Jahveh answered him not, neither
by dreams, nor by Urim, nor by prophets." [2] Thus deserted by Jahveh,
Saul, in his extremity, bethought him of "those that had familiar
spirits, and the wizards," whom he is said, at some previous time, to
have "put out of the land"; but who seem, nevertheless, to have been
very imperfectly banished, since Saul's servants, in answer to his
command to seek him a woman "that hath a familiar spirit," reply without
a sign of hesitation or of fear, "Behold, there is a woman that hath
a familiar spirit at Endor"; just as, in some parts of England, a
countryman might tell any one who did not look like a magistrate or a
policeman, where a "wise woman" was to be met with. Saul goes to this
woman, who, after being assured of immunity, asks, "Whom shall I bring
up to thee?" whereupon Saul says, "Bring me up Samuel." The woman
immediately sees an apparition. But to Saul nothing is visible, for he
asks, "What seest thou?" And the woman replies, "I see Elohim coming up
out of the earth." Still the spectre remains invisible to Saul, for he
asks, "What form is he of?" And she replies, "An old man cometh up,
and he is covered with a robe." So far, therefore, the wise woman
unquestionably plays the part of a "medium," and Saul is dependent upon
her version of what happens.