The origin and development of the moral ideas

Hope, indeed, forms an element in every religion, even the lowest. The assumed authors of painful or alarming events became objects of worship because they were conceived, not as mechanical causes, but as personal agencies which might be influenced by the regardful attitude of the worshipper. The savage is not so irrational as to make offerings to beings from whom he expects no benefits in return. And in proportion as the deities grew more benignant and their sphere of action was extended, their worshippers became more confident, expecting from them not only mercy but positive assistance.

We may suppose that already at an early stage of culture man, occasionally, was struck by some unexpected fortunate event and ascribed it to the influence of a friendly spirit with which he was anxious to keep on amicable terms. Among the Tshi-speaking peoples of the Gold Coast worship is the result not only of fear, but also of the hope of obtaining some direct advantage or protection.64 The pagans of Siberia accompanied their sacrifices with words like these:—“Behold what I bring you to eat; bring me then in return children, cattle, and a long life.”65 The Point Barrow Eskimo, when he arrives at a river, throws into the air a small piece of tobacco, crying out, “Spirits, spirits, I give you tobacco, give me plenty of fish!”66 Of the Sia Indians (Pueblos) Mrs. Stevenson writes that their religion is not mainly one of propitiation, but rather of supplication for favours and payment for the same—they “do the will of and thereby please the beings to whom they pray.”67 We even hear of savages making thank-offerings to their gods.

In Fiji, after successful fishing for turtle, or remarkable deliverance from danger in war or at sea, or recovery from sickness, a kind of thank-offering was sometimes presented to the deities.68 When certain natives of Eastern Central Africa, after they have prayed for a successful hunting expedition, return home laden with venison or ivory, they know that they are indebted to “their old relative” for their good fortune, and give him a thank-offering.69 We are told that in Northern Guinea, when a person has been repeatedly fortunate through the agency of a fetish, “he contracts a feeling of attachment and gratitude to it.”70 Yet we have reason to suspect that the gratitude of the sacrificer is commonly of the kind which La Rochefoucauld defined as “a secret desire to receive greater benefits in the future.”71 Sometimes the thank-offering, if it may be called so, is expressly preceded by a vow. Among the Kansas the warrior, when going to war says, facing the East, “I wish to pass along the road to the foe! O Wakanda! I promise you a blanket if I succeed”; and turning to the West, “O Wakanda! I promise you a feast if I succeed.”72 Even in religions of a higher type the offering of sacrificial gifts is mainly a sort of bargain with the god to whom they are offered.

In the Vedic hymns the gods are addressed by phrases like these, “If you give me this, I shall give you that,” or, “As you have given me this, I shall give you that.”73 The singer naïvely confesses, “I looked forth in spirit, seeking good, O Indra and Agni, to relations and kinsmen; but I have no other helper than you; therefore I have made you a powerful song.”74 The Greeks expressed the idea connected with their sacrifices in the proverbial saying, δῶρα θεοὺς πείθει.75 The ancient Hebrew view on the subject is illustrated by the vow of Jacob:—“If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, and will give me bread to eat, and raiment to put on, so that I come again to my father’s house in peace; then shall the Lord be my God: And this stone, which I have set for a pillar, shall be God’s house: and of all that thou shalt give me I will surely give the tenth unto thee.”76

In many cases the sacrificial victims are intended to serve as substitutes for other individuals, whose lives are in danger. We have previously noticed that the practice of human sacrifice is mainly based on the idea of substitution.77 We have also seen that a growing reluctance to this practice often led to the offering of animals instead of men.78 But we have no right to assume that the sacrifice of an animal for the purpose of saving the life of a man is in every case a later modification of a previous human sacrifice. The idea that spirits which threaten the lives of men are appeased by other than human blood may in some instances be primary though in others it is derivative. The Moors invariably sacrifice an animal at the foundation of a new building; and though this is said to be ʿâr upon the spirit owners of the place some idea of substitution seems also to be connected with the act, as they maintain that if no animal were killed the inmates of the house would die or remain childless. A similar practice prevails in Syria, where the people believe that “every house must have its death, either man, woman, child, or animal.”79 Among the Jews it is or has been the custom for the master of each house to kill a cock on the eve of the fast of atonement.

Before doing so he strikes his head with the cock three times, saying at each stroke, “Let this cock be a commutation for me, let him be substituted for me”; and when he strangles his victim by compressing the neck with his hand, he at the same time reflects that he himself deserves to be strangled.80 These customs can certainly not be regarded as survivals of an earlier practice of killing a human being. Moreover an animal is sometimes sacrificed for the purpose of saving the lives of other animals. Thus in a place in Scotland, in 1767, a young heifer was offered in the holy fire during a cattle-plague.81 And in Great Benin, in West Africa, on the anniversary of the death of Adolo, king Overami’s father, not only twelve men, but twelve cows, twelve goats, twelve sheep, and twelve fowls were offered, and Overami, addressing his father, asked him to look after the “cows, goats, and fowls, and everything in the farms,” as well as the people.82 Sacrifices which are substitutional in character may or may not be intended to satisfy the material needs of supernatural beings. In some cases, as we have seen, their object is to appease a resentful god by the mere death of the victim.83

We have further noticed that, in the case of human sacrifice, the victim is occasionally regarded as a messenger between the worshippers and their god even though the primary object of the rite be a different one.84 The same is sometimes true of other offerings as well.85 The Iroquois sacrifice of the white dog86 was, according to Mr. Morgan, intended “to send up the spirit of the dog as a messenger to the Great Spirit, to announce their continued fidelity to his service, and, also, to convey to him their united thanks for the blessings of the year”; and in their thanksgiving addresses they were in the habit of throwing leaves of tobacco into the fire from time to time that their words might ascend to the dwelling of the Great Spirit in the smoke of their offerings.87 The Huichols of Mexico often use the arrows which they sacrifice to their gods as carriers of special prayers.88

Not only are sacrifices used as bearers of prayers, but they are also frequently offered for the purpose of transferring curses. In Morocco every síyid89 of any importance is constantly visited by persons who desire to invoke the saint to whom it is dedicated with a view to being cured of some illness, or being blessed with children, or getting a suitable husband or wife, or receiving help against an enemy, or deriving some other benefit from the saint. To secure his assistance the visitor makes ʿâr upon him; and the Moorish ʿâr, of which I have spoken above,90 implies the transference of a conditional curse, whether it be made upon an ordinary man or a saint, living or dead. The ʿâr put upon a saint may consist in throwing stones upon a cairn connected with his sanctuary, or making a pile of stones to him, or tying a piece of cloth at the síyid, or knotting the leaves of some palmetto or the stalks of white broom growing in its vicinity, or offering an animal sacrifice to the saint.91 This making of ʿâr is accompanied by a promise to reward the saint if he grants the request; but the sacrifice offered in fulfilment of such a promise (l-wâʿda) is totally distinct from that offered as ʿâr. It is a genuine gift, whereas the ʿâr-sacrifice is a means of constraining the saint.

When an animal is killed as ʿâr the usual phrase bismillâh, “In the name of God,” is not used, and the animal may not be eaten, except by poor people.92 On the other hand, the animal which is sacrificed as wâʿda is always killed “in the name of God,” and is offered for the very purpose of being eaten by the saint’s earthly representatives. Nothing can better show than the Moorish distinction between l-ʿâr and l-wâʿda how futile it would be to try to explain every kind of sacrifice by one and the same principle. The distinction between them is fundamental: the former is a threat, the latter is a promised reward.93 But at the same time it is not improbable that the idea of transferring curses to a supernatural being by means of a sacrifice was originally suggested by the previous existence of sacrifice as a religious act, combined with the ascription of mysterious propensities to blood, and especially to sacrificial blood, which, according to primitive ideas, made it a most efficient conductor of curses.