The origin and development of the moral ideas

WE now come to the last of those six groups of moral ideas into which we have divided our subject—ideas concerning conduct towards beings, real or imaginary, that are regarded as supernatural. But before we enter upon a discussion of human behaviour in relation to such beings, it is necessary to say some words about man’s belief in their existence and the general qualities attributed to them.

Men distinguish between two classes of phenomena—“natural” and “supernatural,”1 between phenomena which they are familiar with and, in consequence, ascribe to “natural causes,” and other phenomena which seem to them unfamiliar, mysterious, and are therefore supposed to spring from causes of a “supernatural” character. We meet with this distinction at the lowest stages of culture known to us, as well as at higher stages. It may be that in the mind of a savage the natural and supernatural are often confused, and that no definite limit can be drawn between the phenomena which he refers to the one class and those which he refers to the other; but he certainly sees a difference between events of everyday occurrence or ordinary objects of nature and other events or objects which fill him with mysterious awe. The germ of such a distinction is found even in the lower animal world. The horse fears the whip but it does not make him shy; on the other hand, he may shy when he sees an umbrella opened before him or a paper moving on the ground. The whip is well known to the horse, whereas the moving paper or umbrella is strange and uncanny.

Dogs and cats are alarmed by an unusual noise or appearance, and remain uneasy till they have by examination satisfied themselves of the nature of its cause.2 Professor Romanes frightened a dog by attaching a fine thread to a bone and surreptitiously drawing it from the animal, giving to the bone the appearance of self-movement; and the same dog was frightened by soap-bubbles.3 Even a lion is scared by an unexpected noise or the sight of an unfamiliar object; a horse, the lion’s favourite prey, has been known to wander for days in the vicinity of a troop of these animals and be left unmolested simply because it was blanketed and knee-haltered.4 And we are told of a tiger which stood trembling and roaring in an ecstasy of fear when a mouse tied by a string to a stick had been inserted into its cage.5 Little children are apt to be terrified by the strange and irregular behaviour of a feather as it glides along the floor or lifts itself into the air.6

But the primitive mind not only distinguishes between the natural and the supernatural, it makes, practically, yet a further distinction. The supernatural, like the natural, may be looked upon in the light of mechanical energy, which discharges itself without the aid of any volitional activity. This is, for instance, the case with the supernatural force inherent in a tabooed object; mere contact with such an object communicates the taboo infection. So also the baneful energy in a curse is originally conceived as a kind of supernatural miasma, which injures or destroys anybody to whom it cleaves; in fact, to taboo a certain thing commonly consists in charging it with a curse. On the other hand, supernatural qualities may also be attributed to the mental constitution of animate beings, especially to their will. Such an attribution makes them supernatural beings, as distinct from any ordinary individuals who, without being endowed with special miraculous gifts, may make use of supernatural mechanical energy in magical practices. This distinction is in many cases vague; a wizard may be looked upon as a god and a god as a wizard. But it is nevertheless essential, and is at the bottom of the difference between religion and magic. Religion may be defined as a belief in and a regardful7 attitude towards a supernatural being on whom man feels himself dependent and to whose will he makes an appeal in his worship. Supernatural mechanical power, on the other hand, is applied in magic.

This, I think, is what we generally understand by religion and magic. But in the Latin word religio there seems to be no indication of such a distinction. Religio is probably related to religare, which means “to tie.” It is commonly assumed that the relationship between these words implies that in religion man was supposed to be tied by his god. But I venture to believe that the connection between them allows of another and more natural interpretation—that it was not the man who was tied by the god, but the god who was tied by the man. This interpretation was suggested to me by certain ideas and practices prevalent in Morocco. The Moors are in the habit of tying rags to objects belonging to a síyid, that is, a place where a saint has, or is supposed to have, his grave, or where such a person is said to have sat or camped. In very many cases, at least, this tying of rags is ʿâr upon the saint, and l-ʿâr implies the transference of a conditional curse.9 Thus, in the Great Atlas Mountains I found a large number of rags tied to a pole which was stuck in a cairn dedicated to the great saint Mûlai ʿAbd-ŭl-Ḳâder, and when I asked for an explanation the answer was that petitioners generally fasten a strip of their clothes to the pole muttering some words like these:—“O saint, behold! I promised thee an offering, and I will not release (literally ‘open’) thee until thou attendest to my business.” If the petitioner’s wish is fulfilled he goes back to the place, offers the sacrifice which he promised, and unties the knot which he made.

A Berber servant of mine from Aglu in Sûs told me that once when in prison he invoked Lälla Răḥma Yusf, a great female saint whose tomb is in a neighbouring district, and tied his turban, saying, “I am tying thee, Lälla Răḥma Yusf, and I am not going to open the knot till thou hast helped me.” Or a person in distress will go to her grave and knot the leaves of some palmetto growing in its vicinity, with the words, “I tied thee here, O saint, and I shall not release thee unless thou releasest me from the toils in which I am at present.” All this is what we should call magic, but the Romans would probably have called it religio. They were much more addicted to magic than to true religion; they wanted to compel the gods rather than to be compelled by them. Their religio was probably nearly akin to the Greek κατάδεσμος, which meant not only an ordinary tie, but also a magic tie or knot or a bewitching thereby.10 Plato speaks of persons who with magical arts and incantations bound the gods, as they said, to execute their will.11 That religio, however, from having originally a magical significance, has come to be used in the sense which we attribute to the term “religion,” is not difficult to explain. Men make use of magic not only in relation to their fellow men, but in relation to their gods. Magical and religious elements are often almost inseparably intermingled in one and the same act; and, as we shall soon see, the magical means of constraining a god are often externally very similar to the chief forms of religious worship, prayer and sacrifice.

That mystery is the essential characteristic of supernatural beings is proved by innumerable facts. It is testified by language. The most prominent belief in the religion of the North American Indians was their theory of manitou, that is, of “a spiritual and mysterious power thought to reside in some material form.” The word is Algonkin, but all the tribes had some equivalent for it.12 Thus the Dacotahs express the essential attribute of their deities by the term wakan, which signifies anything which they cannot comprehend, “whatever is wonderful, mysterious, superhuman, or supernatural.”13 The Navaho word dĭgĭ’n likewise means “sacred, divine, mysterious, or holy”;14 and so does the Hidatsa term mahopa.15 In Fiji “the native word expressive of divinity is kalou, which, while used to denote the people’s highest notion of a god, is also constantly heard as a qualification of anything great or marvellous.”16 The Maoris of New Zealand applied the word atua, which is generally translated as “god,” not only to spirits of every description, but to various phenomena not understood, such as menstruation and foreign marvels, a compass for instance, or a barometer.17 The natives of Madagascar, says Ellis, designate by the term ndriamanitra, or god, everything that exceeds the capacity of their understanding. “Whatever is new and useful and extraordinary, is called god…. Rice, money, thunder and lightning, and earthquakes, are all called god….

Taratasy, or book, they call god, from its wonderful capacity of speaking by merely looking at it.”18 The Monbuttu use the word kilima for anything they do not understand—the thunder, a shadow, the reflection in water, as well as the supreme being in which they vaguely believe.19 The Masai conception of the deity (ngăi), says Dr. Thomson, “seems to be marvellously vague. I was Ngăi. My language was Ngăi. Ngăi was in the steaming holes…. In fact, whatever struck them as strange or incomprehensible, that they at once assumed had some connection with Ngăi.”20 Mr. and Mrs. Hinde use “the Unknown” as their equivalent of the word ngăi.21

The testimony of language is corroborated by kindred facts referring to the nature of those objects which are most commonly worshipped.22 Among all the American tribes, says Mr. Dorman, “any remarkable features in natural scenery or dangerous places became objects of superstitious dread and veneration, because they were supposed to be abodes of gods.”23 A great cataract, a difficult and dangerous ford in a river, a spring bubbling up from the ground, a volcano, a high mountain, an isolated rock, a curious or unusually large tree, the bones of the mastodon or of some other immense animal—all were looked upon by the Indians with superstitious respect or were propitiated by offerings.24 In Fiji “every object that is specially fearful, or vicious, or injurious, or novel,” is eligible for admission to the native Pantheon.25 It is said that when the Aëtas of the Philippines saw the first locomotive passing through their country “they all fell upon their knees in abject terror, worshipping the strange monster as some new and powerful deity.”26 Of the shamanistic peoples in Siberia Georgi writes, “All the celestial bodies, and all terrestrial objects of a considerable magnitude, all the phenomena of nature that can do good or harm, every appearance capable of conveying terror into a weak and superstitious mind, are so many gods to whom they direct a particular adoration.”27 Among the Samoyedes “a curiously twisted tree, a stone with an uncommon shape would receive, and in some quarters still receives, not only veneration but actual ceremonial worship.”28 Castrén states that the

Ostyaks worshipped no other objects of nature but such as were very unusual and peculiar either in shape or quality.29 The Lapps made offerings not only to large and strange-looking objects, but to places which were difficult to pass, or where some accident had occurred, or where they had been either exceptionally unlucky or exceptionally lucky in fishing or the chase.30 The Ainu of Japan deify all objects and phenomena which seem to them extraordinary or dreadful.31 In China “a steep mountain, or any mountain at all remarkable, is supposed to have a special local spirit, who acts as guardian.”32 The average middle-class Hindu, according to Sir Alfred Lyall, worships stocks or stones which are unusual or grotesque in size, shape, or position; or inanimate things which are gifted with mysterious motion; or animals which he fears; or visible things, animate or inanimate, which are directly or indirectly useful and profitable or which possess any incomprehensible function or property.33 From all parts of Africa we hear of similar cults.34 The Negroes of Sierra Leone dedicate to their spirits places which “inspire the spectator with awe, or are remarkable for their appearance, as immensely large trees rendered venerable by age, rocks appearing in the midst of rivers, and having something peculiar in their form, in short, whatever appears to them strange or uncommon.”35 When Tshi-speaking natives of the Gold Coast take up their abode near any remarkable natural feature or object, they worship and seek to propitiate its indwelling spirit; whereas they do not worship any of the

heavenly bodies, the regularity of whose appearance makes little impression upon their minds.36 Throughout East Africa the people seem to attach religious sanctity to anything of extraordinary size; in the island of Zanzibar, where the hills are low, they reverence the baobab tree, which is the largest growing there, and in all parts of the country where hills are not found they worship some great stone or tall tree.37 In Morocco places of striking appearance are generally supposed to be haunted by jnûn (jinn) or are associated with some dead saint.38 As I have elsewhere tried to show, the Arabic jinn were probably “beings invented to explain what seems to fall outside the ordinary pale of nature, the wonderful and unexpected, the superstitious imaginations of men who fear”;39 and the saint was in many cases only the successor of the jinn. Indeed, the superstitious dread of unusual objects is not altogether dead even among ourselves. It survives in England to this day in the habit of ascribing grotesque and striking landmarks or puzzling antiquities to the Devil, who became the residuary legatee of obsolete pagan superstitions in Christian countries.40