The origin and development of the moral ideas

The visiting stranger, however, is regarded not only as a potential benefactor, but as a potential source of evil. He may bring with him disease or ill-luck. He is commonly believed to be versed in magic;81 and the evil wishes and curses of a stranger are greatly feared, owing partly to his quasi-supernatural character, partly to the close contact in which he comes with the host and his belongings.

In the Mentawey Islands, in the Malay Archipelago, “if a stranger enters a house where there are children, the father or some other member of the family who happens to be present, takes the ornament with which the children decorate their hair, and hands it to the stranger, who holds it in his hands for a while, and then gives it back”; this is supposed to protect the child from the evil effect which the eye of a stranger might have on it.82 With reference to the Californian Pomo, Mr. Powers states, “Let a perfect stranger enter a wigwam and offer the lodge-father a string of beads for any object that takes his fancy—merely pointing to it, but uttering no word—and the owner holds himself bound in savage honour to make the exchange, whether it is a fair one or not.” When we compare this idea of “savage honour” with certain cases mentioned in the last chapter, we cannot doubt that it is based on superstitious fear; indeed, the next day the former owner of the article “may thrust the stranger through with his spear, or crush his forehead with a pebble from his sling, and the bystanders will look upon it as only the rectification of a bad bargain.”83 Among the African Herero “no curse is regarded as heavier than that which one who has been inhospitably treated would hurl at those who have driven him from the hearth.”84 According to Greek ideas, guests and suppliants had their Erinyes85—personifications of their curses; and it would be difficult to attribute any other meaning to “the genius (δαίμων) and the god of the stranger, who follow in the train of Zeus,” spoken of by

Plato, and to the Roman dii hospitales, in their capacity of avengers of injuries done to guests. Aeschylus represents Apollo as saying, “I shall assist him (Orestes), and rescue my own suppliant; for terrible both among men and gods is the wrath of a refugee, when one abandons him with intent.”86 It is no doubt the same idea that the Chorus in the ‘Suppliants’ expresses, in a modified form, when singing:—“Grievous is the wrath of Zeus Petitionary…. I must needs hold in awe the wrath of Zeus Petitionary, for that is the supremest on earth.”87 Âpastamba’s Aphorisms contain a sûtra the object of which is to show the absolute necessity of feeding a guest, owing to the fact that, “if offended, he might burn the house with the flames of his anger”;88 for “a guest comes to the house resembling a burning fire,”89 “a guest rules over the world of Indra.”90 According to the Institutes of Vishnu, “one who has arrived as a guest and is obliged to turn home disappointed in his expectations, takes away from the man to whose house he has come his religious merit, and throws his own guilt upon him”;91 and the same idea is found in many other ancient books of India.92 That a dissatisfied guest, or a Brâhmana,93 thus takes with him the spiritual merit of his churlish host, allows of a quite literal interpretation.

In Morocco, a Shereef is generally unwilling to let a stranger kiss his hand, for fear lest the stranger should extract from him his baraka, or holiness; and the Shereefs of Wazzari are reputed to rob other Shereefs, who visit them, of their holiness, should the latter leave behind any remainder of their meals, even though it be only a bone.

The efficacy of a wish or a curse depends not only upon the potency which it possesses from the beginning, owing to certain qualities in the person from whom it originates, but also on the vehicle by which it is conducted—just as the strength of an electric shock depends both on the original intensity of the current and on the condition of the conductor. As particularly efficient conductors are regarded blood, bodily contact, food, and drink. In Morocco, the duties of a host are closely connected with the institution of l-ʿâr, one of the most sacred customs of that country. If a person desires to compel another to help him, or to forgive him, or, generally, to grant some request, he makes ʿâr on him. He kills a sheep or a goat or only a chicken at the threshold of his house, or at the entrance of his tent; or he grasps with his hands either the person whom he invokes, or that person’s child, or the horse which he is riding; or he touches him with his turban or a fold of his dress. In short, he establishes some kind of contact with the other person, to serve as a conductor of his wishes and of his conditional curses. It is universally believed that, if the person so appealed to does not grant the request, his own welfare is at stake, and that the danger is particularly great if an animal has been killed at his door, and he steps over the blood or only catches a glimpse of it.

As appears from the expression, “This is ʿâr on you if you do not do this or that,” the blood, or the direct bodily contact, is supposed to transfer to the other person a conditional curse:—If you do not help me, then you will die, or your children will die, or some other evil will happen to you. So also the owner of a house or a tent to which a person has fled for refuge must, in his own interest, assist the fugitive, who is in his ʿâr; for, by being in his dwelling, the refugee is in close contact with him and his belongings. Again, the restraint which a common meal lays on those who partake of it is conspicuous in the usual practice of sealing a compact of friendship by eating together at the tomb of some saint. The true meaning of this is made perfectly clear by the phrase that “the food will repay” him who breaks the compact. The sacredness of the place adds to the efficacy of the imprecation, but its vehicle, the real punisher, is the eaten food, because it embodies a conditional curse.

Now the idea underlying these customs is certainly not restricted to Morocco. As will be shown in subsequent chapters, blood is very commonly used as a conductor of conditional curses; for instance, one object of the practice of sacrifice is to transfer an imprecation to the god by means of the blood of the victim. Bodily contact is another common means of communicating curses; and this accounts for many remarkable cases of compulsory hospitality and protection which have been noticed in different quarters of the world. In Fiji “the same native who within a few yards of his house would murder a coming or departing guest for sake of a knife or a hatchet, will defend him at the risk of his own life as soon as he has passed his threshold.”94 In the Pelew Islands “an enemy may not be killed in a house, especially not in the presence of the host.”95 If an Ossetian receives into his house a stranger whom he afterwards discovers to be a man to whom he owes blood-revenge, this makes no difference in his hospitality; but when the guest takes his leave, the host accompanies him to the boundary of the village, and on parting from him exclaims, “Henceforth beware!”96 Among the Kandhs, if a man can make his way by any means into the house of his enemy he cannot be touched, even though his life has been forfeited to his involuntary host by the law of blood-revenge.97 In none of these cases is an explanation given of the extraordinary privilege granted to the stranger; but it seems highly probable that it has the same origin as the exactly similar custom prevalent among the Moors.

In other words, as soon as the stranger has come in touch with a person by entering his house, he is thought to be able to transmit to that person and his family and his property any evil wishes he pleases. So, also, in the East any stranger may place himself under the protection of an Arab by merely touching his tent or his tent-ropes,98 and after this is done “it would be reckoned a disgraceful meanness, an indelible shame, to satisfy even a just vengeance at the expense of hospitality.”99 “Amongst the Shammar,” says Layard, “if a man can seize the end of a string or thread, the other end of which is held by his enemy, he immediately becomes his Dakheel [or protégé]. If he touch the canvas of a tent, or can even throw his mace towards it, he is the Dakheel of its owner. If he can spit upon a man or touch any article belonging to him with his teeth, he is Dakhal, unless of course, in case of theft, it be the person who caught him…. The Shammar never plunder a caravan within sight of their encampment, for as long as a stranger can see their tents they consider him their Dakheel.”100 But one of the Bedouin tribes described by Lady Anne and Mr.

Blunt, whilst ready to rob the stranger who comes to their tents, “count their hospitality as beginning only from the moment of his eating with them.”101 All Bedouins regard the eating of “salt” together as a bond of mutual friendship, and there are tribes who quite in accordance with the Moorish principle, “the food will repay you”—require to renew this bond every twenty-four hours, or after two nights and the day between them, since otherwise, as they say, “the salt is not in their stomachs,”102 and can therefore no longer punish the person who breaks the contract. The “salt” which gives a claim to protection consists in eating even the smallest portion of food belonging to the protector.103 The Sultan Saladin did not allow the Crusader Renaud de Chatillon, when brought before him as a prisoner, to quench his thirst in his tent, for, had he drunk water there, the enemy would have been justified in regarding his life as safe.104 We find a similar custom among the Omaha Indians: “should an enemy appear in the lodge and receive a mouthful of food or water, or put the pipe in his mouth, he cannot be injured by any member of the tribe, as he is bound for the time being by the ties of hospitality, and they are compelled to protect him and send him home in safety.”105 In these and similar cases, where there is no common meal, the guest may nevertheless transmit to his host a curse by the exceedingly close contact established between him and the food or drink or tobacco of the host, according to the principle of pars pro toto.

This is an idea very familiar to the primitive mind. It lies, for instance, at the bottom of the common belief that a person may bewitch his enemy by getting hold of some of his spittle or some leavings of his food—a belief which has led to the custom of guests carrying away with them all they are unable to eat of the food which is placed before them, out of dread lest the residue of their meal should be eaten by somebody else.106 The magic wire may conduct imprecations in either direction. In Morocco, if a person gives to another some food or drink, it is considered dangerous, not only for the recipient to receive it without saying, “In the name of God,” but also for the giver to give it without uttering the same formula, by way of precaution.107